Jumping off the bench, I strode back inside and up to the reception desk. “Your fundraiser is coming up, isn’t it?”
“Oh, do you mean the Black and White Ball?” Olivia said. “Would you like tickets?”
Mayan would be there. From her social media profile, she hadn’t missed a year since she’d started working for the Foundation.
“Give me two.” I grinned. “It’s my excuse to ask this guy out. Can’t say no to a good cause, right?”
She smiled back. “He’d be a jerk if he did. That’ll be four hundred even. Could I get your email for our mailing list please?”
I tried not to choke as I handed over my credit card and spelled out the junk email I kept for anyone selling me something. “I hope he has a tux. Why I always go for musicians is beyond me.”
Laughing, Olivia gave me the keypad to enter my pin number. “You like the bad boys.”
“The one thing Mayan and I have in common.”
“I wouldn’t know about that.”
“I think you would.” I leaned on the top of the desk. “Here’s the thing, Olivia.” She started at my use of her name. “I’ve seen photos of you and Mayan and I know you’re chummy. I’m trying to track this guy down who Mayan was seeing and I’d appreciate your help.”
“Sorry.”
“He’s not good news. Help me help her.”
“I’d like you to leave.”
“And I’d like an answer.”
She reached for the receiver. “I’m calling Mayan.”
“You do that. Then I’ll mention how when you were still going by your married name back in Toronto, you were fired from the non-profit you worked at with accusations of theft.”
She dropped the receiver back in its cradle. “How did you know about that?”
“Short answer? I’m a very thorough private investigator. Now, I’m sure you’ve turned your life around and I’m happy for your past to remain there. If you give me a name.”
She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. “I never met him. She only went out with him a few times.”
“A name.”
“Jonah Samuels.”
“Did he ever come around here?”
“No. Their meetings were very much on the down-low. Except…”
I made a “get on with it” motion.
“A man came to buy a ticket to the fundraiser a couple of weeks ago. Mayan was coming back from lunch and even though they didn’t speak, she looked flustered for a second at his presence.”
“Did you get his email?” She had. I typed it into my phone along with a description of him. “Does she have a date for the ball? If this guy is going to be there, she should have someone with her, making sure he doesn’t get close.”
“Yes. She’s going with Levi Montefiore.” She gave me the receipt and the tickets.
“Is she now?” I waited for my outrage and betrayal to emerge, but honestly, I was worn out from the constant game playing. I’m sure he’d have a perfectly acceptable reason for not mentioning it, and it’s not like he could have been my plus-one, but I was over him keeping me in the loop only when it suited him. Especially on this case, where he’d come to me for assistance. Levi, you ass.
I received a text with the good news that Miles did indeed have an in at a lab and they were going to do a rush toxicology workup on the cigarette. I dropped the sample off, now free to track down Jonah Samuels.
It didn’t take long. In his early forties, Jonah was older than I’d expected, with a nerdy red-headed cuteness about him. His profession was listed as Medical Researcher. His lone social media profile wasn’t sparse enough to set off any bells, more that it had the air of someone who was a half-hearted poster. There were no photos of him and Mayan together anywhere public. That would fit if he’d truly been a casual hook-up.
He wasn’t registered in any of the Canadian House databases. Neither was I, so that didn’t rule him out being Nefesh.
Levi’s travel agent phoned. Not only had Levi come through with two tickets to the island of Antigua on a red-eye flight tonight, he’d splurged for business class. Though not for first class, so maybe this was the equivalent of economy in Levi’s world.
I made arrangements to get the tickets from the agent so I was spared dealing directly with Levi. I wasn’t sure what, if anything, I wanted to say to him yet.
After racing home to pack, Priya tried to make me do a video for the dog in case she missed me. I refused; Priya filmed me anyway. It consisted of sixteen seconds of me scowling at the screen in dead silence. As a reward, she gave me the contact info of the man with the Wonderland recollection. That call would have to wait until morning.
Arkady and I cabbed it to the airport that evening.
“Here.” He shoved a ring box at me.
I stifled a yawn. “Am I about to become the luckiest girl in the world?”
“Yes. For the remainder of this trip you are my one true love. Savor what no other woman will ever be.”
I popped the box open and, confronted by the large pear-cut jewel, whistled. “Not too shabby.”
“It’s the finest in cubic zirconia. Daddy loves you, baby.”
“Considering why we’re going, let’s leave off the creepy father references, shall we?” I slid the ring onto my finger. “This’ll do nicely.”
To give Arkady his due, you’d have never known I didn’t possess his genitalia of choice. He was so solicitous, carrying my bag, my hand clasped in his. When he told the ticket agent all about our fake engagement and how he was nervous that I wouldn’t say yes, even I was on the edge of my seat, hoping I’d accepted.
The woman was putty. He even smoothed over the weirdness of flying to Antigua for one night with just carry-on luggage by saying we were going to get my uncle’s blessing in person, since he’d helped raised me, but work obligations prevented us from staying longer.
The lies fell from his lips like honey and everyone in his wake lapped them up.
We got our spacious seats for the first leg of the journey to New York. After one last charm offensive for our female flight attendant, Arkady stuffed his ear buds in and ignored me to watch the latest Marvel movie.
Fine by me. Best he not see—and report back to Levi—how many of those stupid baby bottles of booze I put away. Or the two extra desserts our flight attendant brought that I stress-ate. No tiny pretzel packages for this business-class flyer.
I laughed softly. Arkady could be asleep and he still wouldn’t miss those details. I ordered another Jack Daniels.
I wanted Uncle Paulie to have all the answers and for him to have none in equal measure. My last crash had shattered my femur. Would I get off as lightly in this aftermath? I finished the drink with trembling hands.
The plane hit turbulence and dropped with a sickening lurch. I spilled my booze, swearing viciously as I blotted my clothes with a linen napkin. Balling up the napkin, I poked Arkady.
“Friends don’t interrupt friends at the good part,” he said.
“Distract me.”
“Aliens are about to annihilate us.”
“Never mind.” I rested my head against my darkened entertainment screen in defeat.
Arkady made a disparaging noise. “Miles and I slept together.”
“No kidding.” I sat up. “Was the sex bad?”
“Pickle, I can make sex with anyone good. It was…” He frowned. “More than I expected.”
“But?”
“He overthinks everything.” Arkady held out his left ear bud. “As do you. Now shut up.”
I slid the ear bud in, lay my head on his shoulder, and let myself be soothed by the world blowing up.
Chapter 15
Antigua in April was hot to my Canadian blood and annoyingly humid. Arkady and I dropped our bags off at the resort we’d been booked into. I peeled down to a tank top and a pair of long shorts, slapped on some sunscreen, and called the poster.
It was a fairly brief chat. He didn’t remember the blond guy’s n
ame. When pressed on how he could be certain of the Russian accent after all these years, he replied that it had stuck out because the kid was traveling with a Hispanic carny family.
I hurriedly grabbed a pen. “Do you remember their last name?”
Sadly, he didn’t. He’d worked the rides, not the midway, and hadn’t had much interaction with them.
“What about the company that ran the fair?” If they were around, they might have employment records from that time.
That he provided. Thanking him, I hung up. A Russian kid and a Hispanic carny family in Wonderland—was this the genesis of the Queen of Hearts? I tapped the pen against the table I sat at. Knowledge was power, but knowledge could also be deadly. I still intended to know exactly who I was dealing with, but I’d asked Priya to look into this before learning about living statues, and how dangerous the Queen actually was.
I left a message for the company. I’d decide what to do with this information once I heard from them.
A text came in from my mother.
Talia, Destroyer of Egos: Breakfast the other day was lovely and I’m happy you’re settling into this new chapter of your life so well.
I deleted three responses before settling on “okay.”
Talia, Destroyer of Egos: Priya may be working for the House, but you shouldn’t go there too often to visit her. The optics aren’t good. Are you available to help out at a Town Hall meeting this afternoon? Various family members of my staff are volunteering.
Talia had always negotiated my presence at her events, never asked. Apparently, our little work fiction had gained me some freedoms. Was that what my breakfast invitation had been about? She knew I’d say no to all events from here on in and that was her way of keeping up appearances? Making sure the optics looked good?
Damn my lack of clarity.
Not that our previous relationship had been all that fulfilling, but there’d been a brutally honest transactional logic to it that I almost missed. At least we’d both gotten something out of it. Now that we were locked into “all lies, all games,” dealing with her was exhausting and sad.
This so easily could spin out into fewer and fewer engagements until we were family in name only. The fiction about me being Mundane was imperative to the cover story hiding my Jezebel status, but I wanted—no, I needed— something genuine to connect with her over.
Was I going to get my father back, only to lose my mother?
Me: Away on business. Sorry.
She didn’t respond.
Arkady knocked on my door. With one glance at the text chain, I slid my phone into my pocket and we went out hunting for a way to Inferno.
Our first stop was a helicopter charter company located in a tiny storefront, jammed with travel posters showcasing the beauty of Antigua and hand-lettered signs advertising all their various tours.
The owner, a woman with a close-cropped graying afro and a colorful sundress, lost her wide smile when she heard our request. “What do you want to be messing around with that fool Caligula Jones for?”
A younger man came out of the back office at her loud words. “No one is going to fly you over there. Heard the airstrip is part jungle again.”
“Who’s Caligula Jones?” Arkady said.
I shrugged. “Beats me.”
“That crazy man who lives there,” the owner said.
“That’s your uncle?” Arkady blew out his cheeks.
The younger man whistled. “You’ve got one messed up family.”
“Honorary uncle,” I said. “And Caligula Jones sounds like a ridiculous constructed persona.” I tsked. “He always did have a tendency to self-aggrandization.”
The younger man shook his head. “He hunts people for sport.”
“He’s a slightly shady old dude on an island,” I said. “This isn’t Running Man. He’d be locked up if that were the case.”
The owner wagged a finger at her employee. “She’s right. That wasn’t proven. But those parties of his did enough damage. Brought in all the wrong people and engaged in who knows what kind of depraved activities. And that’s when he was still receiving visitors. You’d best stay away.”
Disheartened, I thanked them and we left the office, the cheery jangle of the bell over the door a discordant note.
“That certainly spices this adventure up,” Arkady said.
“Should we still go through with this?” I said. Arkady had army and black ops training. I’d defer to him.
“The name, the people hunting, it sounds like a lot of hot air to keep unwanted visitors away. Let’s see if we can hire a boat.”
Arkady took charge, judging rightly that the men down at the docks would deal better with another man. Unfortunately, finding a boat for the hour-long trip led us to increasingly higher prices and more unseaworthy crafts.
The last possibility in the marina was a black sailor called Jacques whose surliness made my personality seem like it was spun from cotton candy. Though he was hot in a buff bald guy way. After seeing our documents marking me as Mundane and Arkady as Nefesh, Jacques agreed to take us over for an exorbitant sum of cash.
“Yo, Jacques,” another boat owner called out. “You got duct tape and tarps? I hear Caligula pays extra for body removal. Doesn’t like the hassle.”
“Your uncle has a hell of a PR machine,” Arkady said. “I’m impressed.”
“Only the finest of depraved psychopath rumors for Paulie,” I said.
We stepped aboard Jacques’ banged-up speedboat named “Blow Me.”
I pushed aside a coil of rope to sit on the cushion-less bench. “Is the boat named for a general hatred of mankind or…” I mimed snorting cocaine.
Jacques regarded me with a flinty-eyed stare. “When we get to the island, I don’t dock. You jump out and wade to shore.”
“But you’ll wait for us?” I said.
He grinned unpleasantly. “Depends on how much you annoy me.”
Arkady threw up his hands. “We’re fucked.”
Jacques raked a slow gaze over him. “You, I might stick around for.”
“Well, of course you would, darling.” Arkady preened.
I shoved my engagement ring in his face. “Sitting right here. Darling.”
Arkady groaned. “Women.”
Jacques flashed him a smile and started the outboard motor.
The sound rattled through the boat, up my poor ass, and into my teeth, where it knocked my jaw around like a heavyweight champ. Then the speedboat roared off. I clung to the bench for dear life, each bump sending me flying into the air, while salty water drenched me.
“This was the best you could find?” I yelled at my useless fiancé.
“It’s perfect,” he whooped.
“No. It’s not. I am a Jew. We wandered in the desert for forty years. We like land.” My voice rose in a screech as I almost flew out of the boat. Did I mention that lifejackets were not included on this fine vessel?
“I haven’t had this much fun since the golems.” He stretched his arms out along the boat’s railing. “We should have gotten engaged sooner.”
My life flashed before my eyes. Well, I think it did. It was hard to tell for the tangle of locks permanently plastered to my face, given we were driving into the wind.
“Make yourself useful,” I said. “Tell me how to get your overthinker to be nice to your fiancée.”
Arkady tilted his face into the sun. “Good luck with that. Miles takes his job as Levi’s personal security very seriously.”
“He sees me as a threat.”
“Not in the way you’re thinking. Look at it from his point of view. Miles ensuring Levi’s safety means Levi is free to govern the Nefesh to the best of his ability. Miles is thorough and thoughtful when he assesses a risk. The combination of your history with Levi and you being what you are makes you a volatile and unpredictable element that he can’t simply assess and neutralize. It’s not your fault, but he can’t predict from moment to moment how your mission is going to compromise h
is. That’s a lot of added pressure.”
I gazed out over the choppy waves. “Did he say all that to you?”
“Miles? Are you kidding? The man is hardly forthcoming. It’s a winning combination. Overthinking and not sharing.” Arkady booped me on the nose. “You’re not the only one who can read a situation, pickle. Try to see where he’s coming from.”
“Fine.” It’s not like it would be reciprocated.
By the time Jacques pointed out the island in the distance, I was soaking wet, had swallowed half a pound of my own hair, and my butt was a screaming, bruised mess.
Desperate for some posterior relief, I wobbled my way to the prow, gripping the railing for dear life. White foam frothed on the churning waves and the closer we got, the more the cloudless sky became streaked with blue and pink. The sun turned to a sinking ball of brilliant red, casting everything in a hellish glow.
It would have been a photo-worthy sunset were it not the middle of the afternoon.
A giant tentacle rose from the water and snapped around my arm, yanking me partway overboard. My sunglasses sailed into the sea with a splash.
Acting on pure adrenaline, I manifested a perfect replica of Moran’s big-ass sword and hacked through the tentacle.
Blood spattered on me as a black eye appeared under the surface.
The kraken whacked the boat with its massive head.
Lurching sideways, I ran back to Arkady, but he was gone. I pressed my hand to my heart. Oh, my friend. I’d avenge your death.
“Jacques!” I spun around to order him to go faster, but there’d been a shift change.
A hooded and robed figure in billowing red robes now captained the boat. “You must pay the ferryman,” the figure boomed.
I ran at the figure and nailed him with a roundhouse kick. “Paid.”
The ferryman stumbled to one knee.
I grabbed his head and smashed it into the railing. “And a tip.”
His went crossed-eyed, his pupils glassy, but he recovered enough to grab me and wrestle me to the ground. In the blink of an eye, the rope slithered off the bench and lashed my limbs to the steering wheel column.
Shadows & Surrender: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 3) Page 15