Dead of Night (Ghosts & Magic #1) (31 page)

"And a pair of balls, which is more than you've got right now. We're going to die anyway if we do nothing, we might as well double-down."

He slammed the trunk closed, the anger fading from his face. "I never should have answered the phone. I'll be right back. I'm gonna go get more ice."

"He'll do it," Jin said while he walked away. "But he isn't going to be happy about it."

"I don't give a shit if he's happy. I need to talk to Black, get his side of the story. If what you said about Black and Red is true, there's no way Tarakona hits her and he's twiddling his thumbs on the sidelines."
 

Of course, that didn't mean he hadn't helped him do it. Jin didn't know what the status of their relationship was at the time of her aunt's death. Mrs. Red had insisted that Black wasn't responsible, which led me to believe it couldn't have been that bad.

"You can't be sure he'll help us."

"No, but I don't think anyone else will."

 
Amos came back fifteen minutes later, cradling two huge bags of ice in his arms. I opened the trunk for him and he put them in, making sure not to look at Danelle when he did.
 

"I know a guy, fixer calls himself Larry. Works for Black. Lives in Boston." He swung the trunk closed and walked around to the driver's side without making eye contact.

We joined him in the car. Jin sat in the back with one of the rifles across her lap, while I took shotgun with another between my legs. None of us felt safe, even in the rented car. It was doubtful they knew who Amos was. It wasn't impossible.

"You think he'll hook you up with Black?" I asked.

"No fucking way. Not without a little persuasion."

We pulled out of the lot. It was a three hour drive to Boston from here, back on I-95. Back past Connecticut.
 

"What kind of persuasion are we talking about? Money?"

Amos looked over at me. "Pain."

We drove in silence for five or six minutes, and then Amos started yapping about all sorts of nothing. The trees on the side of the road, the drivers around him who did all sorts of stupid things and were generally complete incompetent assholes, the storefronts and the kind of people that went to each kind of business. What was a front, what wasn't a front, and finally just general, racist laden overviews of the different towns we blew past once we were on I-95.
 

More than once I was tempted to shut him up, and I kept glancing back at Jin to see how she was reacting to his bullshit. She was unaffected. Now that she knew why he was so pissed, she took all of his venom in stride, letting him spew it and work off his emotions in his own way.
 

Maybe there was something to be said for a House without a wizard at its head. When you couldn't depend on nuclear magic to bring people in line, you needed to be a bit more understanding and diplomatic, a better mix of strong and vulnerable, commanding and open.
 

I couldn't help but wonder if it was intentional. She'd been trained to take over a House. Was she authentic, or was all of her outward personality an act, a masterful performance intended to perfectly manipulate? I wish I could say I knew.

If it was an act, was I falling for it?

Was I falling for her?

Shit.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Six of one, a half-dozen...

We made it to Boston without trouble, riding through the city around one in the afternoon. The clouds had given way to an hour of sun, and then fought back against the brightness and carried out their revenge with intermittent downpours and a stiff wind. It was nasty weather.
 

A good day for nasty business.

Amos made it clear that the fixer wouldn't be cooperative. He also made it clear he was pretty sure Black was going to kill him for what he was about to do. He questioned his own sanity a few times, and went through with it anyway.

"Larry lives up there," he said, pointing up from the windshield of the Caddy to the top of an older apartment building. "Eighth floor walkup. Eight fucking flights of stairs. Pain in the ass, always going so high. My knees can't take much more of this shit."

"How do you know he's up there?"

"He's a fixer. Usually works at night. Means he'll be home catching some z's."

He pulled the car into a spot a few blocks away. We grabbed whatever we could conceal, and put the rest in the trunk. Then he went over the plan while we walked back to the building.

"Walk around to the alley and wait there. He'll come out his window, try to get away from me down the fire escape. Stay hidden, jump him when he gets to the ground floor." He held his arms out wide. "Or I could just off him, and you could suck him back and make him make the call?"

I shook my head. "It'll take too much time and energy. The best corpses are at least a week old."

"Suit yourself. Like I said, he'll come down. You grab him. Watch your ass though, asshole's an illusionist."

"How am I going to know it's really him coming down the fire escape?"

"Shoot him in the leg or something. If it bleeds, it's him."
 

We went to the front of the building. Amos vanished inside. Jin and I moved to the alley, and waited together behind a trash bin.
 

"I've been spending too much time crouched behind these things the last couple of days."

Jin laughed. "I would think ghosts spend a lot of time in dark alleys."

"Not really. Thugs and ferals hang out in alleys. Ghosts plan, prepare."

"Then I would say that what we're about to do is more like being a thug."

"Then I would agree. I guess the setting is apropos."

"How is your stomach?"

I shifted my hand and touched the wound beneath the shirt. It was still tender as anything, but as long as it didn't get infected I would survive. I still couldn't be sure if the shot had been good. I wouldn't know that until it wore off.

"As good as I could hope for."
 

She put her hand on mine. "I'm glad I could help."

I didn't react. I didn't say anything. I kept my eyes on the fire escape.
 

The window exploded outward in a rain of glass.
 

It was followed by a thin guy in a black bathrobe and slippers, who swung out and onto the fire escape.

"There's our guy." Jin started to stand. I put my hand on her shoulder.

"Hang on, let him get a little closer."

He looked back while he descended the iron steps, not making a sound in the soft slippers. He was halfway down when Amos' head appeared in the window.

"That ain't him. Fucker got past me, get around front."

The guy on the escape didn't react to Amos' voice. Shit. I stood and started for the front of the building.

"Wait. What if Amos was the illusion?"

"If he was, then where the hell is the real Amos?"

Jin raised her rifle and stepped out from cover. She sighted and fired, a single shot that passed through the illusion's leg.

"What if you had been wrong?"

"Then he would have been easier to catch."

I couldn't help but laugh at that, at the same time I sprinted for the front, with Jin right behind. We turned the corner at the same time Amos rumbled through the entrance.

"Amos?" Jin asked.

The ghost raised his gun.

"Not Amos." I tackled Jin, knocking her into the street behind a parked car. Two shots pinged off the sheet metal.

It was the middle of the day, and a firefight was going to draw all the wrong kind of attention. I peeked up over the corner of the car in time to see Amos vanish, replaced by the guy in the bathrobe.
 

A horn sounded, and I saw the grill of an eighteen wheeler bearing down on our hiding spot.

My heart skipped a beat, and I grabbed Jin's arm before my brain caught up to my eyes and told me it wasn't real. The illusion vanished right as it should have hit me. It did what it was supposed to, distracting us while our target ran away.

The real Amos almost fell onto the sidewalk when he pushed through the front doors. His face was red and covered in sweat, and he bent at the knees to try to catch his breath.
 

"Come on," I said to Jin, running over to him. "What the fuck, Amos? You said fire escape."

"Son of a bitch. Knew I was coming or some shit. Had an illusion already waiting when I busted in his door. Slipped right out behind me, the little shit."

I looked down the street. "Amos, he went that way. Why don't you go after him? Jin, stay here."

"What do I look like, Usain Bolt? Where the fuck are you going?"
 

Back down the alley.
 

He was dropping from the fire escape when I came back around the corner.
 

"Hey, Larry."
 

I startled him. He turned and looked at me, his eyes wide. He split into half a dozen Larrys.

"Who the hell are you?" they all asked. "What do you want from me? Do you know who I work for?"

He was tall and thin, with a ring of grey hair around a bald scalp. He had a sharp nose and wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like an insurance salesman or an accountant. Not a fixer.

"I know who you work for." I reached up and lowered my hood, so he could see my bald head and ravaged skin. It was enough to tell him what he was dealing with.

"A necro?" He stared at me. I heard a squeak, and the dumpster started rolling towards me.

"I'm dying, not an idiot." The illusion passed through. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He laughed. "I'm not an idiot either. Necros don't drop by for tea and crumpets." He started running towards me, the six Larrys doubling to twelve. They all mixed together.
 

I could only stop one.

A line of bullets tore up the cement between him and me. I glanced up to where Jin was standing on the fire escape, outside Larry's apartment.
 

"My associate suggests you stay there."

The doppelgängers vanished.
 

"Fine. What kind of tea do you like?"

I brought Larry back into the building through the front. Amos was waiting there, and he laughed when he saw the fixer.

"Think you're slick? Make me fucking run like that."

"What was I supposed to do? Fixers go to ghosts, ghosts don't come to fixers. Mr. Black is going to have your ass for this."

"Ah, stow it, Larry. We ain't gonna hurt you, although if it can get us Black's attention, we might reconsider."

We went into the apartment building and started up the stairs. It didn't take long for Amos to fall behind, the chase having taken away what little stamina he had. I met Jin at the entrance to Larry's place.

"Thanks for the cover."

The fixer's apartment was a model of minimalism. The living area sported only a folding aluminum table, a matching chair, and a laptop trailing a plug to a wall that hadn't been painted in at least thirty years. There was no television, no couch, not even any lamps.
 

"Nice place," I said.
 

"I'm only here to sleep and organize jobs. What do I need a bunch of sentimental garbage for?"

I thought my life was sad. At least I missed my sentimental garbage. Molly's teddy bear, my Tesla...
 

"Jesus Christ, are you kidding me?" Amos burst into the room, his eyes scanning the landscape. "Would it kill you to at least get a couch?"

Larry shook his head. "Look, I don't know what you guys think you're going to accomplish by jumping me. I'm just a fixer. You want Black, you need to talk to his negotiator."

"We're talking to you," Amos said. "I know you have Pelfrey's number."

"That was fifteen years ago. Pelfrey isn't in charge anymore. He got killed during a deal."

"No shit? Who's in charge now?"

"Adams."

Amos slapped his hand to his forehead. "Fucking Adams? Are you shitting me?"

"No joke. Mr. Black was impressed with the way he handled that business with Gold. You remember that?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"There you go. I can't call Adams, Amos. I just can't. He isn't Pelfrey. He'll kill me if I contact him without being asked. Literally kill me."

Amos nodded. "Jin, may I please borrow that for a moment?" He reached out for the assault rifle. Jin handed it to him.

The shot grazed Larry's calf, and sunk into the floor behind him. "I'll kill you if you don't, you little shit. Who the fuck do you think you're talking to here?"

Larry didn't react to the wound, he just raised his head, defiant. He was probably scared, but he was also a fixer. He was used to dealing with tough guys. "I know who I'm talking to. I know you Amos. Geez, you know where I live, I know you so well. And you know me well enough to know that nothing you do to me can be worse than what Adams can do. Have you ever been water boarded by an aquamancer?"

Amos shouldered the rifle and started aiming. "Next shot goes through your balls."

Larry didn't respond. He just stood there and waited.

"I told you what it would take," Amos said, lowering the rifle and looking at me. "It's your turn."

I didn't want to touch him. I wasn't sure the meds had taken well, and the idea of winding up drained again and needing the second capsule wasn't pleasant. Even so, I approached Larry and put my hand on his wrist.

"Don't make me do this."

He looked down. "Even that can't be as bad as some of the shit I've heard that Adams has done. Why Black picked him... I have no idea."

I could hear the fields in the background, the pulsing and chirping. I looked into Larry's eyes, and started to draw the power. "You're sure you won't reconsider?"

He shook his head.

I took a deep breath and blew it out. I really didn't want to do it. "I don't suppose the name 'Tarakona' means anything to you?"

Larry kept staring at me. Then he glanced over at Amos. "Let go of my wrist."

Had that actually worked?

"Don't even think about trying anything," Amos said, bringing the rifle back up.

I let go of his wrist.