Charles scowled, but remained silent. His eyes continually darted to Jennie’s gun, held tight in her hand. Although his sole purpose in New York was to legitimately bring fresh specters into the queen’s court, he wasn’t dumb enough to realize that one toe out of line would mean an influx of overwhelming pain.
To Jennie’s surprise, the man, one Arthur C. Hannigan, mulled over the decision and selected the void as his destination. He explained he had lived a healthy, full life. He had seen his children grow and had loved until his heart was full, and the idea of sticking around wasn’t for him.
Jennie felt only respect for the man. She had lived her life around the living and the people who still clung on in the afterlife. It was rare she came across anyone who considered themselves fulfilled.
“Best of luck in the beyond,” Jennie wished him with a small smile on her face. “May you rest in peace.”
The man returned the smile, crossed his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. A few moments later, the spectral projection of his body faded, leaving no trace of the man behind.
Jennie wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
“Are you okay?” Baxter asked.
Jennie nodded. “So few people reach that level of happiness. It’s always an overwhelming moment to witness.”
Charles grunted as Jennie tightened her grip on him. In her moment of admiration for the man, Charles had begun to disappear through the wall again, making an effort to sneak off.
“Now, where were we?” Charles inquired as though he hadn’t just tried to escape.
“I believe you were pretending not to know anything about what Worthington is up to,” Jennie reminded him.
All pretense in Charles’ demeanor dropped. He ran a hand down his face. “What do you want from me, Rogue? I’m sworn to obey my oath. I do as the queen demands, and I am a loyal servant.”
“I want you to help me,” Jennie replied.
Charles sighed. His internal struggle was made clear by the flickering of the lights. Durst looked uneasily at the ceiling.
“Impossible. I can’t betray my oath,” Charles told her.
Jennie shook her head. “Look, I don’t want you to join my side. I don’t want you to betray your people, and I don’t want you to do anything that will break your oath in any way whatsoever. I understand the pressures of the oath and all that ties you to Her Majesty and the paranormal court, okay?”
Charles’ lips tightened. “Then what do you want?”
“I want one piece of information. One thing, and you can walk away, free and never see me again.”
“You promise?”
Jennie considered this. “Actually, that’s the one thing I can’t promise.”
Charles weighed his options, although in this situation, he had very few. He gave a curt nod. “Ask, and I’ll answer if I can.”
“Good.” Jennie smiled. “Now, I know you and every specter under the queen’s rule in this city must have a meeting place, a house or mansion or apartment that acts as the central HQ for loyalist activity. Where is it?”
Charles gave Jennie an inquisitive look. “You mean, Her Majesty never told you?”
Jennie shook her head. “I guess she didn’t trust me to not stir up shit in her city. She wanted me in and out with minimal complications.”
“Sounds like my old sex life,” Baxter muttered.
Jennie failed to hold back a laugh. “Less of that, thanks.” She returned her gaze to Charles. “I guess she knows me too well. So, where is it?”
Charles bit his tongue, considered the gravity of the information he was about to impart, and then, with one final glance at Jennie’s gun, gave her the location.
Jennie laughed internally. Even those who seemed most loyal to the queen were cowards at heart.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Midtown Manhattan, New York City
Lupe stood up when he heard the bell of the cafe ring to announce the latest arrival.
He had been watching through the window, his face cloaked by the shadow his hood cast, doing whatever he could to deflect the stares of the “normals” of the city.
He knew his face was unsettling to look at, but was that his fault? No. Yet covering it with his hood seemed to draw just as much attention. Disgruntled parents and an elderly couple skirted his table, looking away as if eye contact with the small Latino man in the corner was going to suddenly cause him to explode.
Tanya’s lips were tight. She made her way to Lupe without hesitation, refusing to make eye contact until she had taken her seat. “You wanted to meet?”
Lupe nodded. He signaled that they were ready to give their order, and a young woman with neatly groomed hair and ample makeup came to their table. A few moments later, she was back at the counter, passing on the order, and gossiping behind her hand to her colleagues about the redheaded beauty and the beast she was sitting with.
Lupe fiddled with his thumbs. His eyes were dark as he stared out from beneath his hood. “I wanted to take some time to clear the air between us—”
He was cut short as Tanya reached over the table and threw back his hood. “At least look at me when you’re dishing out an apology.”
“An apology?” Lupe repeated, glaring at an elderly man who had turned to see what the fuss was about. The man quickly returned to his food.
“That’s what this is all for, am I wrong? To apologize for tricking us and using us for your own selfish gain?” Tanya clutched her chest. Her lips shone ruby red with perfectly white teeth behind. “The Spectral Plane were nothing but good to you, and you used us so you could build your own goddamn spectral army and rise to power. Don’t act like it isn’t true!”
Lupe wasn’t sure how to react. He had never been great with women, and seeing the looks of the other patrons in the cafe, he knew if anything were to happen that might be deemed in some way violent, the fingers would automatically point at him. He’d had it all his life, ever since the accident.
Lupe threw the hood back over his head, doing his best to ignore the stares. “Calm down, Tanya. Please. It’s not like that. I mean, okay, maybe on some level I used you, but it was never like you’re saying it is.”
Tanya eyed Lupe suspiciously. The server returned with two coffees and a jug of water for the table. She cautiously asked if they needed anything else, and when Tanya remained silent, Lupe said no with a crooked grin.
The waitress hurried back behind the counter as quickly as possible, busying herself with her next order.
Tanya sat back and folded her arms. “Nothing you’re telling me makes things any better.”
Lupe tried another angle. “Look, here’s the situation. Have I known I can communicate with the dead for years? Yes. It’s a gift I’ve had since, well, I can hardly remember life without it.”
He leaned back in his chair and cast his eyes down to the table. “Do you know how lonely it gets looking like me? To have the face I have? Not only that, but you spend years learning you can speak with the dead, but you don’t know why. Isolation does things to you. It keeps you inside your own head, and you’re never quite sure how to re-surface. Everyone is against you. The world is bleak. I had only specters for company.
Lupe smiled at Tanya. “Then I saw you in the paper, a short article about a woman who could communicate with poltergeists and ghosts and had a knack of tracking them down. You were a mini-celebrity in the spectral sphere, someone I believed I could connect with and aid. Someone who understood the plight of what I’d come to think of as my illness.”
“But I’m not that. I’m not any of what you’ve just described. I’m just a phony,” Tanya whispered, deflating as all her anger melted and leaked away. “Compared to you, anyway. You’re the real deal.”
Lupe gave her a sympathetic smile. “You’re not phony. All of those specter calls you responded to? They were real—every single one of them. You knew they were there. Maybe your gift isn’t as strong as mine, but you have something inside that calls you to them.�
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Tanya gave him a pained smile as if the last thing she wanted to do was reveal this to Lupe. “Thank you. But if you were in awe of me, why did you steal the specters? What was that?”
Lupe took a sip of his coffee. “I’m not proud of it, but this is the truth. When I finally met you, I was disappointed. I thought I was going to meet my equal, someone who understood everything and didn’t just think they were going crazy with voices in their heads and ghosts floating around. I thought you’d be someone I could relate to—”
“But I wasn’t,” Tanya finished sadly.
Lupe shook his head. “It made me angry. Clearly, there was something inside you that could sense the truth from the lie, but all the strangeness still lived in my head alone. Still, I decided to go along with it for a while. See what happened. I grew bitter.”
Tanya gave him a sympathetic look. “You started a spectral cult. How?”
Lupe gave a derisive laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He rested his head against the back of the seat and stared at the ceiling. “It was a Thursday, I think. It might have been a Tuesday. Anyway, I happened to be wandering through the alleys at night when I came across several specters from the paranormal court ganging up on this poor guy.
“There were too many of them for me to intervene, and, besides, what could I do? Talk them down? So I watched.”
He sighed. “They were cruel to that specter. Did everything in their power to make him take an oath. To speak the sacred words and join the paranormal court.”
Tanya stopped mid-sip and placed her cup down. She eyed Lupe curiously. “I thought it was the Winter Court?”
Lupe shook his head. “That’s just a nickname for the frosty queen. The real name is the paranormal court. According to Jennie, anyway.”
Tanya picked up her drink again and blew across its surface to cool it down. “So, you figured you could do the same? Induct your own specters into following something else? Following you?”
A baby began to cry at a nearby table. Lupe turned and smiled at it, a tiny thing only a few months old. When their eyes met, the baby hushed.
“Something like that.” Lupe turned his attention back to Tanya, ignoring the not- inconspicuous finger-pointing by the cafe staff. “Who’d have thought it would actually work?”
“Not you,” Tanya guessed.
Lupe lifted a shoulder. “Not me.”
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the city traffic humming outside. China clattered, and a coffee grinder began to work away at its beans.
“So, you’ve brought me here to tell you it isn’t all your fault?” Tanya asked. “Is that it? To absolve the blame so you can feel better about yourself?”
“No,” Lupe denied. “Part of it is that I wanted you to understand. I felt terrible about it. You took me in, gave me hope, gave me a community…”
“So you built your own army of specters in thanks?” Tanya snarked.
Lupe’s mouth twisted into a half-grin. “They’re technically our army. It doesn’t matter if you can’t see them, it’s not like I’m all that great with the mortal side of things.”
Tanya arched an eyebrow. Her emerald eyes were piercing. “What do you mean?”
“That’s what I’ve come to tell you.” Lupe spread his hands. “Well, to offer you really. Tanya, you are the Spectral Plane. Without you, none of this would ever have happened. The specters, they all spoke about a rebellion, but if it hadn’t had been for you, and subsequently me, none of this would have happened. You’ve given people beyond the grave hope to live a life of freedom and peace. Do you understand that?”
Tanya was dumbfounded. This was something she definitely hadn’t considered. All that had plagued her mind was the personal injustice of being so close to the spectral world and not being able to witness it. “What are you asking of me?” Tanya asked softly, her curiosity piqued. She leaned across the table. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, I want you to be a bigger part of this,” Lupe clarified. “You have insider knowledge just like I do. You have connections in the mortal world who report every possible sign of a specter or poltergeist to you. I have my specters out on the streets looking for news and knowledge of any spectral member of the crown. If we combine our resources, we can lock them down without a problem. You and me, the dead and the living. What do you say?”
Tanya debated it for a moment. She chewed her lip, unsure of whether there was some kind of catch. The truth was, she had felt like nothing more than a spare part since Lupe and Jennie had arrived on the scene. The organization she had built had been stolen, and she had no way of getting it back.
But life had a way of putting her on the right path.
If she accepted Lupe’s offer, maybe she would finally find a way to see a specter. There had to be one. The revelation that not only could some people see the dead, but some people could also interact with them had rekindled her hopes. If there were people who could shake their hands, communicate with them, and even control them, anything was possible, surely?
Tanya reached across the table, shook Lupe’s hand, and smiled. “Okay. I’m in.”
Lenox Hill, New York City
The streets were packed.
Quitting time had only just passed, meaning that every John, Sue, and Harry was on a desperate quest to make it home, shove some warm food in their stomachs, and catch up on their favorite Netflix show for the evening, before waking bright and early to do it all again tomorrow.
Jennie hated driving in traffic. The constant stop-start of the Mustang was not good for the transmission. She had bought a stallion, a steed that yearned to speed at ninety down the open freeway, galloping into the sunset without restriction, but in the city, the Mustang couldn’t stretch its legs.
Still, it was a beauty.
Baxter noted their direction and broke Jennie’s musing silence. “Not to question your methods, but aren’t we heading away from the address Charles gave us?”
Jennie gripped the steering wheel tightly. A middle-aged woman in a Kia Picanto in front had refused to cross the intersection at the last two red lights, all because the traffic was backed up, and she didn’t believe there was enough space to cross.
“Not now, Bax,” Jennie forced through gritted teeth. Her foot hovered over the accelerator.
“If you get to pick your name, can I pick mine, too?” Baxter stared idly out the window at passersby. “Maybe, ‘Roadrage,’ or ‘the Exterminator?’”
Jennie shook her head, revving the engine when the lights went green again. The woman in front of them hesitated. Jennie honked her horn.
With a cold stare in the rearview mirror, the woman tentatively eased forward, just in time to make the gap while Jennie was left behind through another red light.
“You can’t choose your own nickname,” Jennie told Baxter.
Baxter scoffed. “Why not? Who picked yours?”
Jennie shrugged. “I did.”
Baxter burst out laughing. “Hypocrite!”
“I earned mine,” Jennie told him. “What are people going to think when you turn up and call yourself ‘the Exterminator?’ You sound like you’re coming over to help eradicate bugs from their attic.”
“What about Arnold Schwarzenegger?” Baxter countered.
Jennie scoffed. “I think he’d be offended that his name was associated with you.”
“Ouch.” Baxter glanced at Jennie. “Let me guess, you’ve met him, too?”
Jennie raised her eyebrows, the coy smile on her lips her only reply.
The light turned green and Jennie sped into the intersection, hooked a right, and barreled down the street until she hit the next chunk of traffic.
They were in a place where Asian shops and tattoo parlors filled the lower levels of the apartment buildings.
“Besides, it has to be easy to say,” Jennie continued. “‘Rogue’ is one syllable. That makes it easy to remember, and it has an edge. ‘The Exterminator’ and ‘Roadrage’ are both too
long. Come up with something succinct, and I might consider it.”
Baxter’s forehead creased as he thought. “Fine. I’ll see what I can come up with.”
Jennie shook her head and smiled as she turned down Seventieth and found somewhere to park.
Hendrick Talbot was a strange man.
Wrinkled beyond all recognition, Hendrick was nothing more than a sack of excess skin wrapped around a tiny frame. Baxter had never seen anyone look so curious. With glasses perched on the edge of a stubby nose that magnified his beady eyes to three times their size, he reminded Baxter of a human-sized naked mole-rat.
His shop was almost exactly as you would expect from a man who was so strange in appearance. Thick wooden shelves were displayed at odd angles, each one with a series of jars and bottles of liquids of every color. Tables were dispersed, seemingly at random, around the floor with a variety of dried fruits and strange props.
Then there was the smell.
The unmistakable aroma of collected stuff reminded Baxter of his old attic, the place where he had kept everything from his past life. Boxes packed with unwanted items and covered in layers of dust. Cobwebs strung from the ceilings and a heavy sense of nostalgia that followed wherever he went.
“Hendrick!” Jennie bellowed at the man, holding her arms high.
Hendrick hobbled toward her using a small cane with one hand, his dark green over-jacket scraping the floor. He met her embrace. “Genevieve. Well, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes!” He gave her a pained smile. “How long has it been?”
“Too long,” Jennie replied regretfully. “I’m glad to see you’re still in business. It must’ve been back in the sixties when we last met.”
“The fifties,” Hendrick corrected. “I was the junior apprentice to Master Yungheim.”
“I remember,” Jennie told him fondly. She turned to Baxter. “Hendrick is something of a master apothecary, a man who learned from the best in the business and was one of the first to bring his trade to New York.” She returned her attention to Hendrick. “I still can’t believe I found you. You’re here.”
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