Deader Still (34 page)
The carriage pulled up beside us. The driver didn’t even bat an eye when he saw me, beaten, bruised, and half-charred. All he seemed to see was my wallet.
I helped Jane into the carriage before hoisting myself up, my bones popping and creaking.
“This carriage smells like burnt food,” I whispered in Jane’s ear.
She laughed quietly.
“That would be you, actually.”
“Right,” I said. “Just for that, I’m going to expense this to your department.”
The sun was setting over the trees somewhere far over on the west side, I had my girl by my side, and a slow ride down to the Village to look forward to. It would have been a perfectly romantic night, if it hadn’t been for Mina, the vampire, the toasted zombies, the electrocution, and the return of the old cultist leader spoiling it all.
I awoke to the incessant poking of the carriage driver jabbing at my shoulder. Jane was asleep also, curled up under my arm. I woke her and lowered her to the street, tipped the driver handsomely, and struggled off the carriage. As the sound of hooves faded off into the distance, Jane and I headed into the Lovecraft Café, drawing stares.
“Do I really look that bad?” I asked her.
“Your jacket is still smoking,” she said, “and yeah, you do kinda look like hell.”
We arrived at the door at the back of the theater that led to the offices, and I stopped. “Maybe you should go in first.”
“Why?” she asked.
“If I go in ahead of you and they see me first, they might think there’s a zombie infestation.”
Jane reached over and ruffled her fingers through my hair, which I only then realized was standing on end, full of static. “Smart boy,” she said.
She swiped her plastic keycard at the door and we entered the main bull pen of the Department. A few of my fellow agents eyed me with suspicion, but none of them got up to cave my skull in.
I turned to Jane and hugged her.
“You should go talk to Wesker. Tell him what’s going on, find out if he knows anything about this. Cyrus did collaborate with the Sectarians, so maybe Wesker’s heard something, even though he’s high on their artistic-torture list. I have to go deal with Connor.”
“Don’t let him punish you too bad,” she said. “That’s my job.” She winked.
Jane started off toward one of the doors that led off to Greater & Lesser Arcana Division.
“I’m holding you to that,” I called out after her, feeling the first bit of real hope I had felt in several days. After taking a moment to let it sink in, I headed back toward the set of desks I shared with Connor.
I expected him to still be pissed at me but when he looked up at my approach, his eyes widened like those of an anime character.
“Jesus, kid, what happened to you?” he said.
I explained what had gone on from the moment I had discovered Mina searching through the museum crates to Jane and me finally escaping. I did, however, leave out taking Godfrey with me. When I was done telling him
almost
everything, Connor seemed less concerned and shrugged.
“I guess that’s what you get,” he said, and turned to his phone. “I’ll call the Inspectre and get a containment team to secure the scene.”
I stared at him. “I’m sorry?”
“Did I stutter, kid?” he said, not looking back. “I said I guess that’s what you get.”
“I heard you, but what are
you
getting at?”
Connor turned back to me, slamming the phone down. “Answer me this,” he said. “A simple question: How did you know how to look beneath the Guggenheim?”
“What?”
“Well, you couldn’t have been just meandering the streets of
I paused as I thought how best to answer him. I really didn’t want to get Godfrey in trouble, and I certainly didn’t want to get myself in it either. Things were already strained enough.
“It was the map,” I said, fishing the crumpled and smoky piece of paper from the pocket inside my jacket. I pointed at the dots I had connected earlier with Godfrey’s help. “When I charted out the path from the massacre on the booze cruise to the death of Dr. Kolb, I simply followed the trajectory. It led straight in that direction, toward the Guge, and I guess I got lucky finding the door.”
“I see,” he said.
I peeled my jacket off, careful to avoid rubbing it against my burnt wrists, and put it over the back of my chair. It had finally stopped smoking. I lowered myself at a snail’s pace and tried to collect my thoughts, only to have them interrupted.
“So Godfrey Candella has nothing to do with this?” Connor said.
“Argh,” I moaned. “I told him not to tell you.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t do deception quite the way you do,” Connor said. “The second he left the art museum, he came back here and info-dumped it all on me.”
Once again, I felt trapped. “I would have found the place eventually without him,” I said in my defense. “He just sped up the process.”
“Do you have any idea how screwed you’ll be if any one of the Enchancellors finds out about you putting an archivist in the line of danger out in the field? On top of what you already did at MoMA with this mysterious Mina of yours? The whole point of having archivists is to keep them out of harm’s way so that our records don’t come into question.”
“You should have seen him,” I said. “He was so excited to be out in the field.”
“That may be, but this isn’t a free-for-all here, kid,” Connor said. “There are rules for a reason.”
“But as part of F.O.G.,” I said, “I work outside of—”
“Stop hiding behind the goddamned F.O.G. excuse,” he said. “Even if you are one of their chosen few, that doesn’t put everyone in this place at your disposal.”
Connor stood up and headed off toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to Inspectre Quimbley in person,” he said, and I felt my heart leap to my throat.
“Don’t.”
Connor looked back and sighed. “Don’t worry, kid. I’m not going to rat you out, although I should.”
“You’re not?”
“No,” Connor said. “There are bigger things on our plate than getting into a pissing contest with you over this. I mean, look at you … You’re burnt, your wrists are gross, and your hair … Well, I probably won’t be able to watch
Edward Scissorhands
ever again without thinking of you.”
“Then why’d you get so pissed at me?”
“I don’t feel like breaking in another partner,” he said. “Even as dumb as you are sometimes. Besides, you look like you’ve suffered enough for one night.”
“Well, thanks,” I said, feeling all warm and fuzzy but kind of confused.
“Don’t get too comfy there. The night’s not over yet. Get yourself cleaned up while I tell the Inspectre about this, minus some of the details.”
Connor started walking off.
“Oh,” I said, “I almost forgot. You’ll be thrilled to hear that there may actually be vampires involved. I’m pretty sure I ran into one this time, no question.”
Connor sighed, shook his head, and pointed over toward the incident sign. I started heading for the ladder.
“We’re gonna discuss protocol when we’re done with all this,” he said. “If we live through it all, of course.”
Returning to the scene of Para-lyzed felt much safer with half of the Department crawling all over the subterranean exhibit. A change of clothes and new wrapping on my wrists had also helped to change my spirits for the better. The smell of roasted zombies, however, did not.
The investigation was already in full swing by the time Connor and I got there, and I was surprised when Wesker appeared from behind a stack of crates with three familiar faces in tow.
“Well, well, well,” Connor said. “If it isn’t the Illinois gypsies.”
The Brothers Heron looked somewhat panicked. Marten was in yet another hideous tweed suit and Lanford looked a little more sickly than usual—the result of being on the run, I guess. Julius looked just as healthy and robust as ever, towering over us all.
“Returning to the scene of the crime, eh?” I said. “Or just a follow-up sales call?”
Marten shook his head. “Sorry we had to run out on you at the convention,” he said, all manners now, “but the look on your face told us you weren’t willing to be reasonable.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I wasn’t willing to be. Not much has changed on that front.”
“He said he was sorry,” Julius’s voice boomed out.
Wesker stepped out from behind them. “I caught these three attempting to liberate those two chupacabras from one of the glass cases where they were being stored. It looked like some sort of art exhibit in progress, but damned if I could tell what Cyrus was going to do with them.”
“Something that tied in to Will Wegman,” I said. Everyone turned to stare at me. “Hey, I don’t know what the hell that means; it’s just what he said.”
Marten nodded. “We tracked them here after Lanford followed you to the park to where that unfortunate jogger met his demise,” he said. “If we had any idea that splitting them up would have caused such a string of tragedies, believe me, we never would have sold one of them to that guy dressed as an undead pirate in the first place.”
“Your sincerity is underwhelming,” Connor fired back. “You were still trafficking paranormal livestock. That’s a crime in the tristate area.”
“How could you even think to bring something so heinous into this city?” I asked.
Marten looked shocked, like I had slapped him in the face.
“What did we do wrong?” Lanford asked, turning to Julius.
“Heinous?” Marten said, talking to me directly now. “How can you say that? Would you say the same thing about a shark for simply doing what it was meant to do?”
“I say,” the Inspectre’s voice called out. “Is that the analogy you’re going with?” He was standing by the entrance to the exhibit proper, but came over to join the conversation. “When a shark attacks a person, it’s only when we’ve entered its natural environment. Last I checked, gentlemen, the chupacabra is not native to New York City. It’s an introduced creature, and as the introducers, you are accountable for its crimes.”
Marten looked at me strangely, squinting not just at me but into me.
“Stop that,” I said, feeling uncomfortable. “What are you doing?”
“I see the curse wore off,” he said. He looked concerned. “So soon. I didn’t expect that.”
“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised what a little bit of panic does to help a guy take charge of his life again,” I said. “So how are you involved with Cyrus, exactly?”
“I take it he’s the pirate-looking gentleman?” Marten said.
“I think ‘gentleman’ is too kind a word for him,” I said, “but yes.”
“Wait,” Connor said. “You’re telling me you didn’t even know the name of a person you were selling those … those …
things
to?”
Marten gave a sheepish grin. “In our business, it’s sometimes better if we don’t ask too many questions. Not if we want to make enough to support our little clan back in
“How very familial of you,” Connor said, “but where you’re headed, I think they’re going to have to fend for themselves for a while.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be happening,” said Marten, and he flourished his arms in a grandiose and arcane gesture. Lanford and Julius joined in, too. I braced myself for whatever was about to happen.
But when the gesturing stopped there was nothing but silence and the three of them still standing there.
Lanford looked at both of his hands, then turned to his shorter, balding brother.
“Marten … ?”
Director Wesker stepped toward them. “Did you really think that when we found this little exhibit, we would be stupid enough to just let you run rampant with your feeble brand of folk magic? The first thing any agent of Greater and Lesser Arcana worth his salt does is create a nullification field.”
I was impressed, despite all my recent misgivings about the man.
Connor stepped forward and got in Marten’s face. “I’ll ask you again,” Connor said. “How do you know Cyrus?”
