Dead to Rites

  Wasn’t so much giving her an order, really, as permission. Letting her know I wasn’t gonna take it poorly if she moved to help. But hey, if phrasing it as a command irritated her more, I was feelin’ petty enough to call it a bonus.

  “I didn’t know you could be this cruel,” she whispered as she passed. I felt the disappointment, the sorrow, the heartbreak pouring off her in waves, tryin’ to insinuate themselves into my head, my soul…

  “Don’t you fucking dare!” I put just enough mojo into my voice to make it thunder, saw her and Baskin both near jump outta their skins.

  “First,” I snarled, “you and me’ve been way too close for you to say that. You know damn well what I’m capable of.

  “More to the point,” and I jabbed a finger their way, making ’em both jump a second time, “you’re the one who escalated this, doll. You’re the one turned a crazed mob loose on me.”

  “I didn’t know one of them had a gun! Mick, I swear to you—”

  “So fucking what? You didn’t know any of ’em didn’t! Besides, couple lucky shots with a heavy enough club woulda done the same damage. You don’t get to decide how much it’s okay to hurt me, dammit! Or when it’s okay to make me hurt anyone else! And then, just a few days later, what’d you do? You and your boob of a boss send a couple of droppers to try’n put me down again!”

  “Hey!” Baskin, now back on his feet, tried to butt in. “Don’t—”

  “You! Close your head before I close it for you! And you!” Back to Ramona. “You had no friggin’ idea what shape I mighta been in when you sent ’em. But you didn’t let that stop you, did you?

  “So don’t you pull your emotional horse shit with me, sister. You took the gloves off. This, all of it, is on you.”

  Both of ’em looked shellshocked, but at least she didn’t try to say anythin’ else by way of excuses. Guess I’d made it clear there was nothin’ to say.

  “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. Now, let’s try this again, from the top. Where’s the mummy?”

  “We don’t have it, Mick,” Ramona said, refusing to look me in the face. “We never did.”

  Okay, I admit, I wasn’t anticipatin’ that. It threw me for what felt like ten or twelve hours. “What?”

  “It’s true! We don’t… I had to run after—after what happened at the carnival. Too crowded, too much attention, and after the gunshot, I knew the police wouldn’t be long. Also, I… wasn’t at my best. Worried over you, whether or not you choose to believe it. Anyway, I thought I’d lurk around outside until dark, when things had calmed down. I don’t know how anyone else could have gotten in and stolen the body with so many people around, but when I finally did go back, it was already gone!”

  It was a daffy story, unbelievable, but I did believe it. I heard it in her tone, tasted it in her aura. Ramona mighta been a swell liar most of the time, but she was off her game right now. Thrown by all that’d happened: me discoverin’ her connection with Baskin, worry over him and over me both, confusion over someone beating her to the goods, more’n a little fear over what she’d just seen in me…

  Maybe, on a better day, she coulda hidden all that from me. But no way even she coulda faked it all, not well enough to put one over on me. And in the midst of all that, I also tasted truth. She wasn’t lyin’ to me, not tonight. Not about this.

  Which meant the only real meaningful observation I could make on the whole situation was, “Well, shit.”

  So who the hell had the damn thing? Fleischer was the obvious choice, but I didn’t see Shea and his Uptown Boys bein’ able to sneak past a whole mob of bulls and bystanders to heist anything as conspicuous as a dead body—and even if they were able, I had trouble imagining they’d be willing. No, it hadda be someone a lot sneakier, a lot subtler. That didn’t rule Fleischer out—God knows who else he might have on the payroll—but it meant he wasn’t a sure bet.

  Damn. How many people wanted this stupid mummy? What the hell kinda mysteries or magic did it hold? How did—?

  “Mick? How did you even know I was after the mummy in the first place?”

  “Didn’t, toots, not until I tracked you down to the carnival and saw the ads for the funhouse.”

  She was more puzzled than ever, now.

  “You were looking for me? Why?”

  Hmm. If she was already thrown tonight, maybe I could finagle some answers outta her I’d never been able to get. I tried to look real calm, real casual, but I was watchin’ her close—physically and magically both—when I said, “Oh, your sister hired me to help bring you home.”

  You believe you’ve seen someone “go pale,” that you’ve seen what I’m talkin’ about. You haven’t. You got no idea. Ramona went absolutely corpse-white, down to her lips. Her knees buckled, visibly, and what mighta been a word or a gasp or a breath died with a squeak as her throat closed tight as an angry fist.

  That wasn’t all. For just a heartbeat or two, the last of her mental and mystical control slipped, too. And I knew.

  You gotta remember, Ramona’d been an enigma to me since day one. I hadn’t been able to tell whether she was human or not, and even after I’d decided she couldn’t be any old mortal, I was never able to pick up on what she was. That ain’t normal; it takes a real good veil, some serious disguising mojo, to hide that kinda thing from me once I’ve started digging into it. But Ramona, she’d always managed.

  Until now. I knew, and I almost wished I didn’t.

  Succubus.

  Ramona was a friggin’ succubus! I knew it hadda be my imagination, but I swore I could suddenly see a faint afterimage of horns and vast, membranous wings.

  Guess she wasn’t the only one not quite able to hide her reactions tonight. Whatever was showin’ on my mug right then, or whatever she felt of my own reaction in that moment her defenses were down, she knew that I knew.

  She straightened, got hold of herself, though she remained white enough you coulda waved her overhead to signal surrender.

  “And that’s why I never told you,” she said, sorrowful but not remotely apologetic. “I’ve seen that reaction before.”

  “Can you blame me? Shit, it’s you lot been spreadin’ most of the legends about your own kind!”

  “No. No, I suppose I can’t. So what now?”

  I stepped back to one of the lower bookcases, made sure I wasn’t about to plant my keister on anythin’ that was gonna break, stab me, and/or curse me, and hopped up to sit on it. It creaked, but held; Baskin winced, but also held.

  “I’ve seen the rites for summoning and binding… demons, before.” I almost couldn’t bring myself to use the word in this context, but it’s what they called themselves, and I didn’t really have a better one, so… “That pentacle back there? Maybe that’d serve for summoning, but you don’t look or behave like you’re bound by any of the magics I know. So what’s the story, sister?”

  She tossed a silent question her boss’s way, and it was Baskin who answered.

  “You remember Winger?”

  ‘’Course I did. He was why I’d ever met Baskin at all. Corrupt Chicago committeeman who’d had pics of a more than revealing nature that coulda dropped our favorite Assistant State’s Attorney in a whole deep pot of hot water. I nodded.

  “Well, like I told you, I was just learning about all this, starting to study the occult, during that whole… misunderstanding. And it was right afterward that a man I was prosecuting managed to escape custody and skip town.

  “Not a big deal. It happens sometimes, and there wasn’t a lot of security on this man—or that much of a manhunt afterward—as he wasn’t especially dangerous. Just an embezzler and, on occasion, blackmailer.”

  Ah. I saw where this was goin’.

  “Lemme guess. He’s the guy who provided Winger with those pics.”

  “Got it in one. Obviously, I couldn’t let him just run free. No, he didn’t have the pictures, but he’d certainly seen them. I couldn’t get the manpower, though, not with so many other, more dangero
us criminals out there. So I… decided to pursue less traditional options.”

  “You panicked and summoned a creature from, for all you knew, the pits of hell.”

  “If you want to put it that way.”

  I wonder if he understood how damn lucky he’d gotten. How easy it was for the tiniest mistake or misstep in that sorta ritual to cost the summoner his soul, and set an unholy beast loose in the mortal world.

  I didn’t even bother askin’ him why—assuming it was deliberate and not a happy accident—he’d called up a succubus instead of something a lot more overtly and obviously fearsome. In part because it wasn’t tough to guess, and in part because, much as I was tryin’ to keep my thoughts from dwellin’ on that particular topic, the idea of the two of ’em makin’ whoopee still made my gut squirm.

  And I knew what direction Baskin’s tastes ran; I had seen those pics, after all.

  So okay, that explained how Ramona—or whatever her real name was—ended up workin’ under… uh, workin’ for him. And it explained a lot of his swift advancement in his occult practices; he had his own private tutor, with access to knowledge and powers that few humans ever could dream of.

  But I still didn’t know why she had the kinda freedom and free will she did, why she didn’t show any of the signs of a traditional binding or “infernal” contract. Why…?

  Wait a tick. Contract? Oh, for the love of…

  “You didn’t!” I shouted at him.

  Baskin just blinked at me, confused, but Ramona started to laugh.

  “I told you,” she said to him. “Mick puts things together fast and makes these intuitive leaps. It’s actually impressive, watching him work.

  “Yes,” she said, now turning back to me. “Daniel found me a loophole. A bargain spelled out so long ago that Latin was the newest style, and he found a loophole.”

  Somehow, I found the whole idea less exciting than she did.

  “Leave it to the friggin’ lawyers… Except, you ain’t free. You’re still runnin’ Baskin’s errands. And I remember our talk a few months ago. You couldn’t tell me who you worked for. Literally couldn’t.”

  Her turn to nod. “We made a new deal. A separate contract—and yes, it included secrecy. He got me out of the binding, so I didn’t have to go home when my term of service was complete. In return, I agreed to work for him for a decade. It’s not particularly onerous, and it’s not as though I’m getting any older. When the time’s up, I’m free to go. Not many of us from my… neighborhood can say that.”

  “I’da thought your people’d have laws against that sorta thing. No way Baskin’s the first to ever pull it off.”

  “We do,” she admitted, taking the drink she’d poured Baskin from his hands and draining it. “If they ever drag me back…” She shuddered. “It doesn’t bear thinking about.

  “But the truth is, Mick, I’m nobody important. I figured I’d have to look over my shoulder now and again, but I honestly didn’t expect them to send anyone after me!”

  “Looks like you mighta blundered that one, Ramona.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe it’s more personal. We do a lot of squabbling and scrabbling for power back home. A lot of politics. Makes your Courts look downright cooperative.”

  I doubted that, but let it slide.

  “It’s entirely possible,” she continued, “that whoever approached you isn’t here officially, but is someone with a grudge who wants to see my shot at freedom destroyed. What’d you say her name was?”

  “I didn’t.”

  Then again, I couldn’t see how it’d hurt, and this wasn’t exactly a normal client-privilege sorta thing.

  “McCall. Carmen.”

  Ramona frowned. “Don’t know the name. Not that it matters; I’m sure it’s an alias. Mick, I… I know you’re angry with me, and you’ve got every right to be. You don’t owe me anything. But please, please, you can’t tell her where I am. You can’t help her find me!”

  Somehow, this didn’t seem the time to clarify that my job wasn’t just to locate Ramona but deliver her, neatly packaged with a bow on top.

  “It ain’t that simple, doll.”

  “What is she paying you? What could she possibly offer you that you’d even consider this?”

  Kept my yap shut tight. No way I was answerin’ that.

  Unfortunately, though, Ramona’s no bunny, and she did know me pretty well.

  “Is she holding someone over you? Did she threaten Pete? Or something to do with Adalina?”

  Goddammit!

  And again, either she saw somethin’ I didn’t want her to see, or she tasted somethin’ in my own emotions. She was near as good as pluckin’ that outta the air—or nearby auras—as I was.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? Did she threaten to hurt the girl, Mick? Or…”

  Don’t say it. Don’t think of it.

  “Or promise to wake her?”

  Fuck.

  Through teeth clenched into a portcullis to keep words a lot uglier—or more dangerous—from escaping, I asked, “How do you even know about that?”

  “I heard Sealgaire mention the name before he vanished, remember? Did you really think I was going to let that drop?”

  “I’ll kill him.” Which we both knew was bunk, even if I could possibly find him, but it made me feel better to say it.

  Barely.

  “You managed to avoid talking much about her in front of me when we visited the Ottatis, but I heard the name. So once I knew there was more to her than just some sick kid, it wasn’t too hard to dig up the fact that she’s a changeling or, in a very general sense, the story of your investigation and of what happened to her. You’ll have to tell me the specifics some day.”

  “Right. I’ll be sure to pencil it in on my calendar. Gimme a ring when your home freezes over and we’ll get into it.” Then, because it didn’t matter anymore, “An elixir. She promised an elixir that’ll wake Adalina. So you can see why I can’t just drop this for you.”

  “I think you not only can drop this, you will.”

  “Oh? Why’s that, Ramona? You gonna try holding Adalina over me, too, now?”

  “I don’t think I’ll have to, Mick. I think you already know why you can’t go through with this, and it’s not for my sake.”

  And again, all I could think was, No. Don’t you dare fucking say it.

  “If you know what I am, now, then you know what McCall is.”

  Don’t say it!

  “And you’re a smart fella, Mick. You’re already asking the questions, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

  You’re right, I don’t want to! So don’t—

  “If Carmen McCall’s a succubus like me, then you’re already wondering… what’s in the elixir?”

  Goddammit!

  “What’s it going to do? Will it do what she promised? Even if it does, are there side-effects? Is it going to poison Adalina? Change her? Leave her open to possession?”

  I didn’t even remember standin’, but I was on my feet, meathooks reaching out for the nearest thing I could break, and the lights were startin’ to flicker again. I hadda force myself to stop, rein myself in before I fell back into… unpleasantries.

  “So how desperate are you, Mick? What—who—are you prepared to risk on the word of a demon?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Mick? Mick! Slow down a little!”

  “What’sa matter, Pete?” I was storming along the sidewalk, headed for my office. The breeze kicked the tails of my coat and the occasional stray newspaper around my ankles, but at least it wasn’t rainin’ tonight. We’d parked his car a couple blocks back; I just hadn’t been able to stand bein’ inside that rolling torture chamber one second longer. “Your plates hurt? You should be able to keep up. I thought you were a beat cop.”

  “I don’t mean the walk, dammit! I mean what you’re telling me! She’s a succubus?”

  Part of me bein’ so angry at everything had meant that, dealin’ with the pain of being in the
flivver, I hadn’t been willing to jaw much on the road. So it was only when he’d parked and we’d hopped out that I’d started goin’ into detail on what I’d learned at Baskin’s place.

  “That’s what I said.”

  I did pause long enough to glance up at the street light I was passin’ to check it didn’t go out. I hadda make sure I was still in control; I’d been losin’ it too easy of late.

  “As in a demon. From the pits of Hell.”

  “So they tell me.”

  “And I thought you told me once that everythin’ supernatural that wasn’t human was Fae, or at least related.”

  “Yep.”

  “So how do demons fit into that?” The next street light and the headlamps of a passing car shone in his peepers as they went wide. “Shit, if there’s a Hell, does that mean Heaven and God really exist? I mean really, provably exist? I gotta get my keister to church more often…”

  “How the hell—pardon the expression—would I know that, Pete?”

  “But, if demons—”

  “Pete, they claim to be demons. They claim to come from the damn Pit, with lakes of fire and the souls of the damned and all that. Me and mine? We’re pretty sure it’s horsefeathers. They’re just another nation of Fae.”

  “Really?” He sounded less than convinced.

  “Really. Nastier’n most, even most Unseelie, and I’m sure wherever their home is, it ain’t someplace you’d wanna take a new blushing bride on your honeymoon. They take strange forms and have stranger magics. But they’re Fae.”

  “And you know this for sure.”

  “Pretty sure, I said.”

  “And if you’re wrong?”

  “Then we’re all gonna look dumb.”

  I’m sure Pete woulda had somethin’ smart to say to that, but we turned the last corner to see—surprise, surprise—someone sittin’ on the stoop of Soucek’s building. Probably waitin’ for me, since most of the offices in the place were vacant, and none of the others kept the kinda hours I did.

  “I need to start leavin’ refreshments out,” I muttered. “Maybe put in some furniture.”