Midnight Blue-Light Special

Fourteen

The Meatpacking District, which is nicer than it sounds, inside a converted warehouse that’s sort of beginning to resemble a clown car with all these people in it

ISTAS AND RYAN WERE WAITING for us in the main room of the slaughterhouse. Ryan looked concerned. Istas looked faintly bored, and was chewing on something that looked suspiciously like the bottom half of a rat. I decided that asking would be a bad idea if I ever wanted to eat again.

“The Covenant is staying at Sarah’s hotel, so Sarah’s staying with us now,” I announced.

“Are you both okay?” asked Uncle Mike.

Sniffling, Sarah shook her head. Then she nodded. Then she shook her head again.

I came to the rescue, saying, “We’re shaken up, but we’re fine. Ryan, do you want to show Sarah to one of the open offices, so she can put down her things? She’s going to be here until all of this is taken care of. It’s not safe for her to go back to her hotel.” It wasn’t safe for her to go back to any hotel, if the Covenant had charms that could block her telepathy. That was the only natural defense she had.

“On it,” said Ryan. He offered Sarah a faintly bemused smile, clearly not sure why she looked familiar. “Can I take your bags?”

“Okay,” whispered Sarah. She handed him the backpack with her school books and homework in it, and I handed him her suitcase. She kept hold of her laptop, still hugging it against her chest like a talisman. Then she wandered off after Ryan, following him toward the nearest set of stairs. Istas followed them, still chewing on her probably-a-rat. That was good. I wanted a few minutes alone with Uncle Mike.

The two of us stood silently until Sarah and the others were up the stairs. Then he turned to me, and said, “Report?”

“I reached the roof of Sarah’s hotel without incident. She came and let me in. We went down the stairs, and were met in the hall by Margaret Healy, who was warded against Sarah’s telepathy. Someone must have warned her that she might be dealing with a psychic.” Someone like Dominic. I should have been more suspicious from the very start—but then again, hindsight is the only perfect vision. “Margaret arrived at the door to Sarah’s room while we were trying to clear out. She picked the lock, and once she was inside, she started demanding to know where I was. Sarah was trying to convince her that I was already gone when my phone rang—shit, my phone. I still don’t know who called.” I reached for my pocket.

“Stick to the main narrative,” said Uncle Mike, holding up a hand to stop me. “What happened then?”

“Margaret realized Sarah had been lying about me, and started to move deeper into the room. So Sarah hit her from behind with a vase and knocked her out.” I allowed myself a small smile. “It was pretty darn brave of her.”

“She’s had some good examples,” said Uncle Mike. “Then what?”

“I searched Margaret for weapons and tied her up as best I could with a roll of electrical tape from my bag.” There was an empty card table nearby. I shrugged off my backpack and walked over to it. “I haven’t had a chance to see what all I got from her.”

“Show and tell was always my best class.”

I dropped my bag on the table. “Then let’s study.”

Margaret had been carrying over a dozen knives, three guns—two pistols, and one mousegun that had been concealed in her sock—a garrote, a blowgun, and a variety of darts, some of which had tiny corks on them to keep her from getting scratched. I handled those with the utmost care.

“Is that everything?” asked Mike, picking up one of the knives.

“Not quite.” I pulled out a set of brass knuckles and a lead-filled sap, dropping them on the pile. “That’s it. Well, that, and this. She had it around her neck.” I reached into my pocket and produced her anti-telepathy charm, holding it up for him to see.

Mike whistled, long and low. “That’s some serious hoodoo. You think she made it herself?”

There are a few spellbooks and grimoires in the family library. Rumor has it they all used to belong to Grandpa Thomas, which explains how he was able to make a deal with one of the Netherworlds before he disappeared. No one in the family has messed around with magic since. We Prices may be foolhardy, but we’re not stupid. “I don’t know,” I said. “If she’s a witch, she didn’t show it—and she was wearing the charm, which would have messed with any magic she was planning to use.”

“I’d have expected a tattoo, not a necklace, if she wasn’t the crafter.”

“Unless they wanted her to be able to take it off,” I said. “Maybe they’ve started using empaths to prevent more defections.” There are at least eight naturally empathic cryptid species, and some of them are human enough—or harmless enough—that the Covenant might be willing to let them live if they seemed to be useful. It wouldn’t be the best life for a unicorn or a cofgod, but it would be a life, and that was more than the Covenant was usually inclined to offer their kind.

“Then she’ll probably be in trouble for losing it.” Mike looked at the charm thoughtfully. “You sure it works?”

“Sarah started picking up on Margaret’s presence as soon as I took this off her so, yeah, I’m sure it works.”

“But does it work for people who aren’t her?”

“Only one way to find out,” I said, and looped the chain around my wrist, drawing it tight.

The effect was instantaneous. The soothing static of Sarah’s close presence cut out, replaced by silence. There was a shriek of dismay from the walkway above us, and Sarah ran into view, grabbing the railing and leaning far enough out that I was briefly afraid she might lose her balance and fall. “Verity! Are you hurt?!”

“I’m fine, Sarah! I’m fine!” I unlooped the charm from my wrist, holding it up so she could see what was going on. The static immediately snapped back on. A mild headache came with it, like whiplash from that brief psychic silence. “We just wanted to see whether that necklace I took off of Margaret was what she used to block your telepathy.”

“It was,” said Sarah. She was looking at me like I was a ghost. “Please don’t do that again. I thought you’d died or something.”

If I’d suddenly vanished from her “view,” that was an understandable thing for her to think. “I won’t,” I said, and put the charm back down on the table. “Did they find you a room?”

“Yes, but there’s no Internet in this building.” Sarah looked even more distraught. “Artie’s going to be so worried.”

“So call him.” That would probably worry him even more, since “the Covenant found me and they have telepathy blockers but don’t worry, I’m fine” wasn’t the world’s most reassuring statement. That couldn’t be helped. “We’ll get the network up as soon as we can, but none of us is a computer genius, and it hasn’t been a priority.”

Mike eyed me. “I work in network administration.”

“Only one of us is a computer genius, and it hasn’t been a priority,” I amended. “Maybe you can help Uncle Mike get things set up. In the meanwhile, call Artie, tell him you’re not dead. It’ll probably be good for your nerves.”

“Okay,” said Sarah, and turned, vanishing back into the office. Ryan and Istas appeared a moment later, heading for the stairs.

“This day just never lets up,” I muttered, finally fishing my phone out of my pocket. I opened it and scrolled to the missed call log. Then I blinked. “Shit.”

“What?”

“The call I missed while I was at Sarah’s. It was from Dominic.”

“Verity—”

“No. I’m not letting him know we suspect him.” Suspect, my ass. Margaret had a telepathy blocker. I was ready to lock him up and throw away the key. Still. I hit “redial,” raised the phone to my ear, and waited.

Dominic picked up before the first ring had finished. “Are you all right?” he demanded.

“Yes,” I said, as calmly as I could. “Barely. Is she?”

“Peter found her before she regained consciousness. What did you hit her with? A brick?”

“Actually, it was Sarah. She managed to catch her from behind with a vase while she was looking for me. Nice timing on the phone call, by the way. It nearly got me captured.”

“Oh, God.” Dominic sighed raggedly. I realized for the first time how worn he sounded, like he was being yanked in too many directions at the same time. “I need you to do me a favor. It may sound like I’m trying to walk you into a trap, but I swear, I’m not.”

I was done believing him when he said that. I was still willing to play along. “I’ll listen if you’ll answer me one question.”

“Anything.”

“Are you the one who told them they needed to be using anti-telepathy charms?” If I didn’t ask, he’d suspect; Margaret’s charm was missing, after all.

Dominic’s sharp intake of air wasn’t quite a gasp, but it was a close cousin. “They’re what?”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no.’”

“Is Sarah all right?”

That was the only good question he could possibly have asked. “She’s shaken, but she’s not hurt, and they’re not going to find her again.” If I’d been thinking, I would have moved Sarah the second the Covenant came to town. I didn’t think. “What do you need me to do?”

“Get to Sunil and Rochak. The plan for tomorrow includes sweeping their neighborhood, looking for signs of cryptid inhabitation. They need to shut down the café and get out of there.”

Shit. Even if this was a trap, it wasn’t one that I could ignore. Sunil and Rochak were even more defenseless than Sarah, and they thought they were safe. Dominic and I were regulars. They knew us. They’d open their doors for him and welcome him in gladly.

I couldn’t save their sister. If there was a way for me to save them, I had to take it.

“On it,” I said.

“Thank you.”

“Just take care of yourself, okay? I’m worried about you.”

“You’re not alone in that.” Dominic laughed unhappily. “Sometimes I wish I’d never come to this cursed city. It’s changed everything.”

“Life does that,” I said.

“Yes, but—”

He stopped mid-sentence. I waited for him to continue, only to finally realize that the silence on the other end of the phone was absolute. He wasn’t even breathing. I pulled the phone away from my ear, checking the screen. The connection was dead. He’d hung up on me . . . or someone had hung up for him.

“Well,” I said, with a sigh. “Isn’t this going to be fun?”

“I’m going with you on whatever fuck-crazy errand you just agreed to,” said Uncle Mike.

I looked up at him and smiled thinly. “I stand corrected. This isn’t going to be fun. This is going to be a party.”

Convincing Sarah to stay behind wasn’t nearly as hard as it would usually have been. She’d been scared, and that was something she wasn’t used to. Uncle Mike got her set up in one corner of the main room with a pile of computer pieces I didn’t recognize. She settled in to connecting wires and configuring settings, looking happy as a clam. I guess we all have our comfort zones.

Traveling with Uncle Mike meant I couldn’t take the rooftops, but didn’t need to hail a cab, either. We rode in his sedan, blending smoothly into the traffic around us. If the Covenant was watching for me suspiciously, they’d know to be watching the high ground. Hopefully, being on the roads would keep me under their radar.

“I wish I could convince her to go home,” I said, sinking deep into my seat.

Mike didn’t need to ask who I was talking about. “Any chance of that died when these people got charms to block themselves from her view,” he said. “No way she’s getting on a plane when she won’t know whether one of the other passengers is planning to kill her.”

“Maybe we depend too much on her telepathy.”

“We’ve all got our skills. There’s no shame in depending on them. Just in falling apart if things don’t go exactly the way you were planning. Since you’re not doing that, I think we’re going to be okay.” Mike turned onto a one-way street without checking the sign to be sure he was traveling in the right direction. Judging by the parked cars around us, he wasn’t. “So we’ve got a rogue Healy, and our cuckoo’s benched for the duration. We still have two bruisers, you, me, and all your folks from work. What about these boys we’re going to pick up?”

“They may not want to come with us, and we won’t force them. They’re Madhura.”

“Huh,” said Mike, and kept driving. After a few minutes had passed, he added, “Guess that’ll save us a few bucks on spoiled food.”

I smiled a little. “Guess so.” Having a Madhura around retards food spoilage and decay of all types. Bread stays fresh for weeks if there’s a Madhura in the neighborhood. No one’s exactly sure why. Alex thinks they may be natural bacteriophages or something, but it’s hard to say without a lot of invasive lab work—something none of us are particularly interested in performing, and absolutely zero Madhura seem to be interested in volunteering for.

“You really think we’re driving into a trap?”

This time I was the one who was quiet for a few minutes, thinking about the question. Finally, I said, “I honestly don’t know, Uncle Mike. I want to believe him. I want to believe that Margaret being at the Port Hope was just a horrible coincidence. I can’t, quite. At the same time, I never gave him credit for being this good of a liar.” I glanced toward my adopted uncle. “Either way, I guess we’re going to find out in a little while.”

“Two against four.” Mike smiled. It wasn’t a comforting expression. “Sounds just about fair.”

“Assuming we don’t plan to walk away.”

“Who does?” He shook his head. “You know you can’t trust him anymore, hon. He’s trying to serve two masters—the Covenant, and his heart. That never works out for anybody in the long run.”

I sighed. “I know. I’m just . . . I guess I’m still holding hope for him picking the right side.”

“Right for him, or right for you?”

This time I didn’t have any answers at all. We drove down the streets in silence, and I hoped as hard as I could that when we reached Gingerbread Pudding, we would find Sunil and Rochak alive and well, and I wouldn’t have to make up my mind about Dominic De Luca. I wasn’t ready for that. Soon, maybe, but not yet.

Luck was on my side for once. We found a parking space a quarter of a block from the café, and even from there, we could see that the joint was jumping. The line wasn’t quite out the door, but people were pushing their way both in and out, and happy tourists with their cups of cocoa and squares of gingerbread choked the sidewalk.

Dominic freaked out when I mentioned monsters in public places. There was no way the Covenant would try to pull off an ambush with this many civilians around. Too many centuries of secrecy weighing them down.

Mike took a few quick steps forward, putting himself in front of me, and proceeded to clear us a path to the door simply through dint of walking with his elbows out and his legs a little farther apart than strictly necessary. People got out of the way without seeming to realize they were doing it. One more advantage to being a large male, rather than a small female.

Then again, being a petite woman has advantages of its own. Once we were inside, I slithered around him and flashed a radiant smile at Sunil, who was manning the counter. He blinked, looking concerned for half a second before plastering an artificially radiant smile on his face and declaring, “There you are! I was starting to worry that you’d forgotten about me, and were leaving me here to die of a broken heart.”

“Never,” I said flirtatiously, and worked my way around the people between us to slip behind the counter. I leaned up onto my tiptoes, close enough that onlookers would assume I was kissing his cheek, and whispered, “The Covenant is coming. We need to get you out of here.”

Sunil laughed nervously. “Of course, sweetheart. Take your friend back to the break room and I’ll send Rochak to bring you some gingerbread while you wait.”

I nodded as I dropped to the flats of my feet. “See you soon, honey.” Motioning for Mike to follow me, I started toward the back. A few people grumbled, but not many. Everyone’s forgiving when romance is in the air. (Too bad it wasn’t real. My parents would have been thrilled if I’d come home with a nice cryptid boy, and Sunil was sweet. Literally.) Mike trailed along behind me like a silent shadow, and I led him into the little employee break room where I once shared gingerbread and secrets with Piyusha, just hours before she died.

True to Sunil’s word, Mike and I were barely in the room when Rochak arrived with a tray of gingerbread, and a white to-go bag of the same stuff. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing good,” I replied, taking a piece of gingerbread. “Rochak, this is my uncle, Mike Gucciard. Uncle Mike, this is Rochak, one of the owners of Gingerbread Pudding.”

“Charmed,” said Uncle Mike, claiming his own piece of gingerbread.

“Likewise,” said Rochak automatically. He turned back to me. “What’s going on? You don’t normally drop by like this.”

“How quickly can you close down and get out of here?” I asked. His eyes widened. I shook my head, and continued, “Dominic—who may or may not be compromised, but that’s a matter for later—just called me. There’s going to be a Covenant sweep of this neighborhood tomorrow. You need to leave, and you need to leave now. “

“Now?” Rochak glanced at the clock over the door. “We close in an hour. If I try to clear this place out before then, it’ll be a madhouse. I think the best thing to do is close normally, then put a sign on the door saying that we’re doing inventory and will reopen after the weekend. That should buy us a few days.”

“That sounds good,” I said. “Do you have someplace to go?”

Rochak shook his head.

I could practically feel Candy’s glare on the back of my neck as I sighed and said, “Well, we do. Providing you can agree to stay inside until this is over, I’ve got a place you can go to ground.”

“Is it safe?”

“It’s as safe as anyplace else in this town. Safer, if everyone stays careful and follows the rules. Kitty at the Freakshow would also be willing to give you sanctuary, if you don’t mind bunking with her entire staff.”

Rochak made a face. “I’d rather not. I’m unhappy enough at the idea of leaving the café without adding a bunch of strangers to the equation.”

The Nest was full of strangers, too, but there would be fewer of them; maybe that would help. I decided not to mention it for the moment. “Then you come with us. We’ll stay here long enough to let you shut things down, and then we’ll take you back to our current haven.”

“Thank you.” Rochak put the tray down and seized my free hand in both of his, holding tightly. “I don’t know how I can possibly thank you enough. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to us.”

“It’s my job,” I said. Then I blinked, and repeated, almost wonderingly, “It’s my job.”

“Very?” Uncle Mike frowned. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I just need to go upstairs and make a few phone calls. Rochak, can I use your apartment?”

He nodded, reclaiming his hand. “Please. What’s mine is yours.”

“Great. Have some more gingerbread, Uncle Mike. I’ll be right back.” I turned on my heel and left the room, heading for the stairs up to the second-floor apartment that Rochak shared with his brother. I didn’t look back.

My dance partner wasn’t home. “Hello, world. You’ve reached the home of James and Dennis Garcia. Leave your message at the tone, and we’ll call you when there’s enough of a pause in the glorious adventure of our lives.” James’ gleeful monologue was cut off by the sound of a shrill beep.

I cleared my throat. “James, it’s Verity. You need to take Dennis on a nice vacation, and you need to go now. Something nice and far away. Maybe a cruise to Hawaii. Leave tomorrow, and don’t come back until you hear that the city’s clear.” I hesitated before adding the second part of my message: “When you get back . . . I think it’s time for you to start looking for a new partner. We both knew this was coming. I wish it didn’t have to end this way, but it’s not fair of me to keep holding you back because my heart isn’t in it anymore. Thank you so much, for everything. You’ve been wonderful to dance with.”

I hung up the phone and stared blankly at the wall of Sunil and Rochak’s apartment for several minutes, waiting for my heart to start beating normally again. There it was; that was it. I was done. I could teach dance classes, I could participate in local competitions, but with one little phone call, I had finally put the nail in the coffin of my professional ballroom dreams. And oddly, it hurt less than I had expected it to. Maybe my parents were right when they said that spending a year away from home would be exactly what I needed to set my priorities straight. At the time, I’d laughed at them, saying that all a year in New York would do was make damn sure I never took off my tango shoes . . . when really, a year in New York was what it took to teach me that dancing was my heart, but cryptozoology was my soul.

I shook my head, clearing away the cobwebs, and lifted my phone again. This time, I dialed the Freakshow office. Kitty picked up, with a sultry, “You’ve reached the Freakshow, how may we fulfill your midway fantasies today?”

“Okay, you have got to stop answering the phone like that. You sound like you’re running a bordello, not a perfectly respectable titty bar.”

“Sometimes people can’t tell the difference, and it helps bring in business,” said Kitty, dropping the artificial seduction as quickly as she’d put it on. She was all business now. “What’s the news, Verity?”

“I won’t be coming to work tomorrow.”

“I didn’t expect you.”

“Neither will Istas.” Istas wasn’t aware of it yet, but with as many noncombatants as we now had at the Nest, either she or Ryan would need to be there at all times. It was a security measure. “She’s staying with me.”

“That’s fine. Let her know that she’ll be getting paid regardless, since you wouldn’t be keeping her away if you didn’t really need her. Anything else?”

“There are three Covenant operatives in town.” I sketched out their descriptions and provided their names, adding, “Dominic may be traveling with them. I think he’s still on our side, but it’s hard to be certain, and there’s evidence both ways. Watch for anybody seen in his company. He doesn’t know where I am, and we’re keeping it that way. The new Covenant folks have telepathy blockers that may work on other forms of psychic ability and confusion charms. Keep them away from the hidebehinds if you possibly can.”

“Honey, I’m keeping the Covenant of St. George away from everyone if I possibly can.”

“That’s a good approach. I’ll keep you posted to the best of my ability. Things are about to get pretty messy around here, and I’m not sure how much time I’m going to have.”

Kitty sighed. “Verity, you’ve done more than anyone could ask you to. This isn’t your fight.”

I looked around the perfectly domestic little apartment where, once, three siblings sat and dreamed of a new life, one that involved owning a dessert café of their very own. Below me, the two who survived would be shutting things down, getting ready to abandon their dream—even if temporarily—for the sake of their lives. They shouldn’t have had to do that. No one should have to do that.

Dreams mattered. I shook my head, even knowing that Kitty couldn’t see it. “No,” I said. “This has always been my fight. This is everyone’s fight.”

“Fine, then,” said Kitty. “What do we do now?”

I smiled into the darkness. It felt good. “We win.”