That would explain Johan showing up on our doorstep. And who knows? Maybe she ran two-for-one specials? Maybe she double-dipped, sold the information to two or more parties. The vampire assassins might have gotten tipped only after Johan left if Mary Alice was a big believer in customer service.
The utter stupidity of staying above the hub of underground intel gatherers struck me hours too late to do anything about it. We should have been safe here, but I was learning safety was an illusion.
The question, no matter how uncomfortable, had to be asked, “Are you sure Mary Alice…?”
“Mary Alice is neutral.” Quick, hard, certain was his answer. “The moment she picks a side, she becomes obsolete. People won’t trust the information she sells not to be slanted toward her beliefs. She can’t have her own agenda, or no one will trust her to further theirs.”
It was clear he wanted to believe the best of her, so I didn’t point out she had helped us. A few times. Or that Linus wasn’t her only friend. She might be helping others along too. To our detriment.
Unbidden, Odette’s once-beloved face rose to the forefront of my mind, weathered from the sun and wrinkled by time and a life I had thought well-lived. Recalling her forced me to remember my own battle to believe the worst in someone I had trusted for so long. For his sake, I hoped his friend proved truer than mine.
“We’ve got to be missing something…” I glanced around, my gaze landing on a discarded hanger sticking out of the trashcan. The dots connected in a flash, and I felt stupid for not considering it sooner. “Neely.”
Following my line of sight, he asked, “You think Neely is responsible?”
“Yes.” I yanked the hanger out of the can like it was proof. “No. Not directly.” I started pacing. “He ordered our clothes. He charged them to my account. Anyone with the means to monitor those types of transactions would have known I was planning on being in the city, and that you were coming with me. They would know where to find us since the packages had the address of Mary Alice’s building.”
“You’re right.” His brow slanted downward. “There are only so many places in the city who tailor clothes to the High Society aesthetic. I pointed them out when Neely asked me for recommendations.” It was easy to see he was beating himself up for being predictable. “A bribe could buy that easily. There are Low Society necromancers and other factions within the city who sell that type of information to interested parties.”
Interested parties, like Mary Alice. Ugh. I hated that her name kept popping into my head. Just because my nearest and dearest continued to betray me didn’t mean he shared the same curse. His taste in friends might prove better than mine. I followed my heart, for all the good it did me, while he used his head and let relationships grow from there.
“Neely placed two big orders, both online. That gives us two stores, and goddess only knows how many employees. Someone took the order, someone filled the order, and someone delivered the order.” Thinking back, I made room for a third factor. “A courier service walked the orders up, but was it the same company both times? I can’t remember.”
“Yes.” Linus shifted on his seat. “I recommended them as well. They’re discreet and always on time.”
Picking at the loose thread, I asked, “Who would know you use them?”
“Anyone who has business dealings with me as Scion Lawson. As the potentate, I hand-deliver what needs passing on, or I entrust the task to a member of my team.”
“That leaves us with too many variables. We can’t shorten our suspect list and still get home on time.”
“I’m not staying behind.” His blue-black stare dared me to suggest otherwise.
“Are you going to call Mary Alice?” I gestured to the wreckage. “She might appreciate the heads-up.”
Proving our thoughts often traveled the same paths, he shook his head. “This happened right under her nose. Even if Clem hadn’t splattered a vampire on the sidewalk outside her shop, she would have heard from one of her sources.”
“There is that.” Rorschach vampires did tend to send a rather specific message. “I’ll send a floral arrangement.”
Though Maud had never taught me which flower meant sorry vampires blew out the side of your building.
“Flowers are a nice touch. Let my team handle the rest.” He gestured toward the monitors. “They’ll touch base with us as they hunt down new leads or if they make progress on what we give them.”
“Okay.” I gusted out a long breath, grateful to be one step closer to home. “That works.”
Not a perfect solution, but I would take an iffy one at this point and smile about it.
Four
Running short on time, we packed the van in a rush, including a man-shaped duffle with a rust-colored stain spreading across the bottom. After we strapped in, Linus placed a call to the cleaners. Though the job paid well, it was ugly work mopping up supernatural messes before human cops could get involved.
“I need you to send a text for me,” Linus said, handing over his phone as he pulled into traffic.
One text turned out to be five as he arranged for a second rendezvous with his team through me.
This time, we met at Base Four instead of Base Two, which made me wonder how many of them he had secreted across the city.
With a hostage in tow, Clem providing an extra set of hands came in, well, handy.
Bishop wasn’t thrilled we had acquired a third wheel, though his eyes glinted at the word interrogation, making me more curious than ever about what manner of supernatural creature he might be. But it was rude to ask, so I bided my time until I could bribe Linus for the details.
Deja vu spun my head as we entered Base Four and discovered it resembled Base Two right down to the squeaky castor on Bishop’s worn desk chair. Had we not gained access from a different parking deck, on a different floor, on a different street, I would have assumed this was the same place. But that was crazy talk.
Right?
While I tucked our suitcases out of the way, Linus held the door for Clem, who carried our hostage, still in the duffle taken from the suite’s closet, in a fireman’s carry. How the duffle got there, or if there were more, I chose not to ask. Let alone how Linus knew where to find it. There are some questions best left unanswered.
“Let’s get your friend down to the cell.” Bishop opened a slim door that illuminated even narrower steps. “I have a one hundred percent success rate when it comes to extracting information.” He winked at me. “I’ll have your answers before dinner.”
While I had no love for assassins, I was extremely tired of them. I wanted answers I could trust, and I wanted them fast. Lucky for our unconscious friend, there was an easier way to get them than letting Bishop have his fun.
Striving for diplomacy, I winked back at him. “Let me go first?”
“Are you sure?” Bishop rubbed his jaw. “Interrogations get ugly fast.”
“I spent five years in Atramentous.” Ice encased my heart at the memory. “Nothing is uglier than that.”
Regret mingled with respect on his face. “Have at him.”
With a tight nod to banish the ghosts of that dank, wet cell, I trailed Clem down two flights of stairs to a narrow room with a single cot, a toilet, and a sink. Linus and Bishop came down to watch the show, but it was a tight fit. Clem dumped his load on the mattress then looked to me for orders.
The pocket knife felt as warm as the blood I was about to spill when I palmed it, flicked open the blade, and cut deep. Liquid pooled in my cupped hand, and I used it as ink for the sigils I drew on the man’s forehead.
No sooner had I completed the design than he gasped awake, eyes wild as they spun around the room.
Clem took the opportunity to cuff the prisoner’s hands behind his back, then he attached a chain to the convenient anchor mounted on the wall for just that purpose.
“You’re going to answer some questions for me.” Despite his frantic struggles, I managed to line up the same truth sigils I had once used on Linus across both his cheeks. “There.” Sitting back to admire my handiwork, I flushed at the pride on Linus’s face. “Let’s begin.”
“I won’t tell you anything.”
Green.
Green meant he was telling the truth.
Guess I was going to have to be more persuasive.
Eyes closed, I sorted through the genetic memory passed down to me through generations of goddess-touched necromancers until I discovered a sigil that coerced the truth rather than verified it. With the design in the forefront of my mind, I opened my eyes and applied those across his forehead.
The change in his demeanor was instant. The fight drained out of him, and he slumped forward, relaxed.
I started him off easy. “Who do you work for?”
“I follow the money.”
Green.
“Who paid you?”
He shook his head, tipped sideways. “No names.”
Green.
With Clem’s help, I propped him upright again. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“They wanted proof.” He blinked at me, eyes gone hazy. “Your head or your heart.”
Green.
Linus drifted to my side, silent as a wraith. “How did you know where to find Grier?”
“Got the address an hour before via text.”
Green.
Getting nowhere fast, I demanded, “Did they tell you why?”
“Questions cost time,” he intoned with the cadence of a familiar mantra. “Time is money.”
Green.
Frustrated, Bishop kicked the wall. “Can you kill the laser show, please?”
“Sure.” We had verified his answers were true. There was no reason to keep testing them if it put Bishop more on edge. “There.” I swiped the vampire’s cheeks clean. “Happy?”
“Not as happy as I would be if I hadn’t agreed to let you go first,” he grumbled. “You’re taking the fun out of it.”