Thirteen
Page 31
“E-Eve,” he said. “I thought it was …” He glanced at me. “I didn’t get a good look, and I know your daughter is supposed to resemble you, so I figured that’s who was at my door. You know I don’t talk to anyone without an introduction. That’s why I bolted. If I knew it was you—”
“You’d have bolted faster.”
“I—”
“You thought you got off easy,” she said as she set her sword case down. “I died right after you buggered up our deal with the St. Clouds. You got to keep the money, and I was dead and couldn’t object. Surprise.”
“I—I didn’t renege on the deal. I was going to give you the money—”
“Which is why I hear you already had your truck hitched to your trailer, ready to skitter off for parts unknown. Until I disappeared and you figured you were safe to wait it out.”
“Okay, so you—you’re back. I don’t know how … Wait, you were never dead, were you? It was all a ruse because the Nasts finally caught up with you. Damn it! I mean, it’s good to see you, Eve.”
“I’m sure it is. Now get your ass inside before you finally give the neighbors an excuse to get your shit-box evicted.”
Like many things in the supernatural world, appearances were deceiving. Open the door to Toby’s crappy trailer and you walked into a little mudroom that looked as decrepit as the outside. Close the external door to prying eyes, open the inside one, and it was as if you’d been transported to a luxury SoHo loft. The place must have been professionally decorated. Postmodern high-tech, which is probably not a design category, but that’s what it looked like to me. Paige would be in heaven. The decor wasn’t her style, but the hardware would set her drooling. Even I felt a little dampness in the corners of my mouth.
It was as if Toby had walked into the top electronics store in the country, plopped down a no-limit credit card, and said “give me the best of everything.” Soft music drifted from every corner of the trailer. Lights clicked on as we walked through. A desktop TV-size computer screen tickered stock prices while a printer noiselessly spit out pages in a growing pile. The lights seemed to lead us in, illuminating our path, then lowering as we sat on the sofa. The TV volume turned up automatically. Toby tapped one button on the side of the sofa and the TV flicked off, the music died, and the lights came on full. I tried not to be impressed.
“Okay,” he said as he turned to my mother. “I—”
He looked down at the bow case, which she’d tucked into the shadow of the sofa. Blue light emanated through the zipper.
“Ever seen those crime-scene shows?” I said. “Where they use glowing devices to detect blood? Makes cleanup a whole lot easier.”
He tried to laugh. Didn’t really manage it.
“Okay, Eve, I owe you money. It was ten grand, right?”
“Twenty. Plus interest.”
He nodded and hit another button. A laptop rose from the coffee table. “So, if we calculate interest based on the past decade’s rates.”
“We calculate it based on my rates. Remember what those were?”
“Th-that’s ridiculous. No one would ever borrow money at that cost.”
“Which is why I never had to lend any. You can go ahead and do the calculations if you like, but I can probably save you some time with an alternate offer. I’ll waive the debt for information.”
He hesitated, clearly trying to figure out what could possibly be worth that much.
“Did you know you have a group kidnapping supernaturals in New Orleans?” Mom said. “Shipping them off to be lab rats?”
“Wh-what?” His eyes bugged. “No. Seriously? I—”
“I know you’ve made a deal to keep them from dragging your sorry ass down there, too. Not like they’d want it anyway. Over the years, you’ve shot yourself full of too many drugs to be a viable subject. But you are useful as another kind of rat. The sort that will turn over any supernatural he owes money to.”
Toby’s jaw worked. Then he said, “I haven’t turned anyone over. They came to discuss the local wildlife and I suggested a few names of black-market entrepreneurs.”
“Who could reasonably be arrested and disappear quietly, and if they owed you money or had invested with you … Well, then you’ll look after their money until they return. Nice scheme. Too bad it went all to hell.”
“Wh-what?”
“Lab blew up this morning.” I waved at his laptop. “Check the news.”
He did, tapping away as Mom talked.
“So the lab’s gone,” Mom said. “Not like they would have been getting more subjects anyway. You know Officer Medina? Nice lady. Not too bright. Someone switched the sedatives for stimulants or hallucinogens. One of the first supernaturals to get the new batch was a werewolf. Wanna guess how that worked out?”
Toby’s expression said he’d rather not.
“Medina’s dead. So’s the rest of the staff, plus the inmates. Now, I don’t know how long it’ll take for folks to realize an outpost cop shop has been destroyed, but it’s going to happen soon. The question is whether a Cortez Cabal cleanup crew can get done first.”
“Cortez …”
“Oh, you love the Cortezes, don’t you? And they love you right back. Imagine how happy they’ll be finally having an excuse to haul your ass to Miami. It’s a beautiful city. Not sure you’ll get in much sunbathing, but I hear they have skylights in their cells.”
“Actually, they don’t,” I said.
“No?”
“They’re underground. Which is never a good place to be in Miami. Benicio swears they take every precaution, but if there’s hurricane flooding, what do you think they’re going to save down there? The archives or the prisoners?”
“True,” Mom said.
“Look,” Toby said. “I supplied Jackie with names, not drugs.”
“Jackie Medina,” I asked to be clear, and he nodded.
“The Cortezes aren’t going to care,” my mother said. “Not if it gives them a chance to get you off the street. You’re screwed, Toby. Or you are without my help. Because the guy who gave Medina the drugs also cast a very special spell.”
“You’d have bolted faster.”
“I—”
“You thought you got off easy,” she said as she set her sword case down. “I died right after you buggered up our deal with the St. Clouds. You got to keep the money, and I was dead and couldn’t object. Surprise.”
“I—I didn’t renege on the deal. I was going to give you the money—”
“Which is why I hear you already had your truck hitched to your trailer, ready to skitter off for parts unknown. Until I disappeared and you figured you were safe to wait it out.”
“Okay, so you—you’re back. I don’t know how … Wait, you were never dead, were you? It was all a ruse because the Nasts finally caught up with you. Damn it! I mean, it’s good to see you, Eve.”
“I’m sure it is. Now get your ass inside before you finally give the neighbors an excuse to get your shit-box evicted.”
Like many things in the supernatural world, appearances were deceiving. Open the door to Toby’s crappy trailer and you walked into a little mudroom that looked as decrepit as the outside. Close the external door to prying eyes, open the inside one, and it was as if you’d been transported to a luxury SoHo loft. The place must have been professionally decorated. Postmodern high-tech, which is probably not a design category, but that’s what it looked like to me. Paige would be in heaven. The decor wasn’t her style, but the hardware would set her drooling. Even I felt a little dampness in the corners of my mouth.
It was as if Toby had walked into the top electronics store in the country, plopped down a no-limit credit card, and said “give me the best of everything.” Soft music drifted from every corner of the trailer. Lights clicked on as we walked through. A desktop TV-size computer screen tickered stock prices while a printer noiselessly spit out pages in a growing pile. The lights seemed to lead us in, illuminating our path, then lowering as we sat on the sofa. The TV volume turned up automatically. Toby tapped one button on the side of the sofa and the TV flicked off, the music died, and the lights came on full. I tried not to be impressed.
“Okay,” he said as he turned to my mother. “I—”
He looked down at the bow case, which she’d tucked into the shadow of the sofa. Blue light emanated through the zipper.
“Ever seen those crime-scene shows?” I said. “Where they use glowing devices to detect blood? Makes cleanup a whole lot easier.”
He tried to laugh. Didn’t really manage it.
“Okay, Eve, I owe you money. It was ten grand, right?”
“Twenty. Plus interest.”
He nodded and hit another button. A laptop rose from the coffee table. “So, if we calculate interest based on the past decade’s rates.”
“We calculate it based on my rates. Remember what those were?”
“Th-that’s ridiculous. No one would ever borrow money at that cost.”
“Which is why I never had to lend any. You can go ahead and do the calculations if you like, but I can probably save you some time with an alternate offer. I’ll waive the debt for information.”
He hesitated, clearly trying to figure out what could possibly be worth that much.
“Did you know you have a group kidnapping supernaturals in New Orleans?” Mom said. “Shipping them off to be lab rats?”
“Wh-what?” His eyes bugged. “No. Seriously? I—”
“I know you’ve made a deal to keep them from dragging your sorry ass down there, too. Not like they’d want it anyway. Over the years, you’ve shot yourself full of too many drugs to be a viable subject. But you are useful as another kind of rat. The sort that will turn over any supernatural he owes money to.”
Toby’s jaw worked. Then he said, “I haven’t turned anyone over. They came to discuss the local wildlife and I suggested a few names of black-market entrepreneurs.”
“Who could reasonably be arrested and disappear quietly, and if they owed you money or had invested with you … Well, then you’ll look after their money until they return. Nice scheme. Too bad it went all to hell.”
“Wh-what?”
“Lab blew up this morning.” I waved at his laptop. “Check the news.”
He did, tapping away as Mom talked.
“So the lab’s gone,” Mom said. “Not like they would have been getting more subjects anyway. You know Officer Medina? Nice lady. Not too bright. Someone switched the sedatives for stimulants or hallucinogens. One of the first supernaturals to get the new batch was a werewolf. Wanna guess how that worked out?”
Toby’s expression said he’d rather not.
“Medina’s dead. So’s the rest of the staff, plus the inmates. Now, I don’t know how long it’ll take for folks to realize an outpost cop shop has been destroyed, but it’s going to happen soon. The question is whether a Cortez Cabal cleanup crew can get done first.”
“Cortez …”
“Oh, you love the Cortezes, don’t you? And they love you right back. Imagine how happy they’ll be finally having an excuse to haul your ass to Miami. It’s a beautiful city. Not sure you’ll get in much sunbathing, but I hear they have skylights in their cells.”
“Actually, they don’t,” I said.
“No?”
“They’re underground. Which is never a good place to be in Miami. Benicio swears they take every precaution, but if there’s hurricane flooding, what do you think they’re going to save down there? The archives or the prisoners?”
“True,” Mom said.
“Look,” Toby said. “I supplied Jackie with names, not drugs.”
“Jackie Medina,” I asked to be clear, and he nodded.
“The Cortezes aren’t going to care,” my mother said. “Not if it gives them a chance to get you off the street. You’re screwed, Toby. Or you are without my help. Because the guy who gave Medina the drugs also cast a very special spell.”
