Chapter Fourteen
October 22
First Quarter
All right, people,” Gardner said, “if you got ideas about how to find this asshole, I want to hear them.”
We were gathered in the old boxing ring back at the gym. Gardner stood next to a large whiteboard pasted with the picture of Dionysus we’d gotten from the mayor and a list of facts we knew about him—not many—as well as information I’d gotten from Abe—very little—and facts about the crime scene at Aphrodite’s temple—slightly more, but not nearly enough to inspire confidence that we’d get this guy.
Even though Mez and Shadi hadn’t had the pleasure of getting their asses chewed out by the city’s mayor, they’d been fully briefed on the shit show. The instant we’d left the mayor’s office, Gardner had called Shadi in off patrol so she could help. But like the rest of us, she sat silent, totally stumped about how to track down a madman armed with a rape potion.
“Eldritch is working the robbery now, right?” Morales said.
Gardner nodded. “He’s sending some of his guys over to go over the crime scene in case we missed anything,” she said, her tone dripping with rancor.
Mez’s posture stiffened with pride. “They won’t find shit.”
“Of course not,” Gardner said. “Not our issue anymore. Our goal is to track down the potions.”
Morales leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “How about the other covens?”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Maybe they’ve been robbed, too, but aren’t too eager to get a visit from the BPD.”
“It’s possible,” I said. “Little Man said he gave Dionysus a list of all the top wizes in the city.”
Gardner crossed her arms and thought it over. “I’m pretty sure we don’t have the manpower to interview every wizard in the Cauldron.”
“If Dionysus has the balls to go after Aphrodite Johnson, he’s not going to waste his time with two-bit sorcerers selling snake oil on the corner,” I said. “He’ll go after the other big dogs.”
“Volos,” she said.
I paused before nodding. The thought of having to interview John made my skin feel too tight. After our talk at my party I wasn’t too eager to spend time with him anytime soon. Especially when it was because I needed his help breaking another case. “Harry Bane, too,” I said, trying to redirect focus. “He’d be an excellent target for a Raven since he only just took over his daddy’s coven.”
Hieronymus Bane had turned on his own father to escape jail time in the Gray Wolf case. According to my snitches, Harry was now running the Sanguinarian Coven out of a junkyard.
Gardner nodded. “Wouldn’t be a bad idea to check in with him anyway with Ramses’s trial coming up soon.”
“We’ll go talk to Harry, then,” I said quickly.
Morales blinked, as if he’d been expecting me to volunteer to talk to Volos instead. I shrugged.
Luckily, Gardner didn’t find anything weird about me asking for Harry duty over Volos. “Shadi, you go have a chat with Volos. Even if he hasn’t been targeted, he might have heard something on Dionysus that might help.”
“Fine by me,” she said. “Interviewing a suit like Volos in his sweet office beats chasing stank assholes down by the river.”
“Can I get that embroidered on a pillow?” Morales asked.
“Embroider this.” Chuckling, she flipped him the double birds.
“Okay, you guys have a place to start. Mez, what’s your next move?”
The wizard rose and stretched his arms over his head. “I’m going to call Val over at BPD and see if she’ll share what she found on the letter the mayor received from Dionysus.”
Val was my friend in CSI at the precinct. Despite Mez’s constant flirting with her, she sometimes helped us on the down low when we needed information Eldritch wouldn’t want us to get.
“And if she refuses?” I asked.
Mez smiled at me like he was humoring me. “Then I’ll start working on a new super-strength protection amulet just in case we don’t find this asshole in time.”
Gardner’s jaw tightened. “And I’m going to call in some favors to see if I can get us access to the mental hospital databases. If we can figure out who this guy is, we might stand a chance of catching him before he can make good on his threats.” She looked around the room, meeting each of our gazes directly. “I don’t care what games Eldritch is playing, we’re going to do our jobs and protect the people of this city.”
You could smell the junkyard long before you saw it. Squatting on the edge of Lake Erie in an old industrial area that used to be full of steel factories, Harry Bane’s new headquarters made Rooster’s Gym look like the Four Seasons.
“Least he’s aboveground now,” Morales said with unusual optimism. I nodded absently and kept my eyes on the eight-foot-tall chain-link-and-barbed-wire fence that surrounded the place. Before Harry’s dad, Ramses, was arrested for trying to frame John Volos with his crimes, the Sanguinarian Coven was run out of the abandoned subway tunnels that ran under the Cauldron. But not long after Ramses was arrested—thanks to Harry turning state’s evidence on his father—the city condemned the tunnels and filled all the entrances with concrete. Luckily for Harry, before his dad’s arrest Ramses had diversified the family’s crime empire to include waste management.
Morales steered the SUV to the ancient call box at the front gate. When he punched the black button, the machine crackled with static and high-pitched electronic sounds. Finally, it cleared enough for a voice to come through. “The fuck you want?”
“Need to speak to Hieronymus.”
“He’s indisposed.”
“Tell him it’s Morales and Prospero.”
Silence. We waited a good thirty seconds.
Morales glanced at me. “How long you think he’s gonna make us wait?”
Morales scooted down in his seat and closed his eyes. “Good, I could use a nap.”
It took another two minutes before the intercom buzzed again. “You got a warrant?”
Morales opened his eyes and took his time leaning back out the window. “Don’t need one. We’re here as a public service.”
The speaker made another squawk and then the first voice was replaced by Harry’s more familiar one. “Bullshit. You’re here to plant some evidence like you did last time.”
I rolled my eyes and leaned across Morales. “Open the gate, Harry, or I’ll have my friend at the waste management department come down here for a surprise inspection.”
Ten seconds later the gate screeched open on automatic rollers. Morales laughed. “You even got a friend at waste management, Prospero?”
“Of course not.”
He flashed those white teeth. “You’re a trip, Cupcake.”
The car started rolling toward the opening, slowly just in case Harry decided he was clever enough to ambush us. I had a hand on my pistol the entire time. Once we cleared the gate, we were surrounded by a mountain range made out of rusted metal. A road wound through hills of discarded diapers and empty milk cartons and aluminum cans. Soon we came upon a double-wide that served as the yard’s office. Two mangy-looking rottweilers were chained up out front. When we got out, one of the dogs farted, but neither lifted their chins off their paws.
The door to the trailer burst open. Harry emerged with a sneer. His long white hair flowed in the shit-stench breeze coming off his trash kingdom. His pale coloring combined with the black ankh tattooed on his forehead made him look sinister. However, the effect was ruined when his watery blue eyes squinted at the sun. He snapped his fingers at a flunky just inside the trailer and a second later a pair of dark sunglasses appeared in his hand. He stowed the Ray Charles numbers on his face before swaggering down the steps.
The black suit and leather boots he wore probably cost more than my car, but the dust from the junkyard made him look like a dirty crow instead of the grand wizard of a blood coven. The only affectations that actually worked in the entire ensemble were the single red rose on his lapel, which symbolized the sacred blood of his coven, and the walking stick he swung forward with each step. The top of the cane had a crystal skull on it with ruby eyes. I hated to admit it, but it was pretty badass, even when wielded by an utter douche like Harry Bane.
As he came forward, two equally pale assholes emerged from the trailer with suspicious bulges under their shirts. One picked at his few teeth and plentiful gums with a switchblade, while his partner cracked each of his knuckles like a walnut.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Morales called.
Harry’s narrow face pinched like an anus. “You’ve got five minutes to state your business.”
“Won’t take that long,” I said. “You heard what happened to Aphrodite Johnson?”
Harry’s smile was genuine. “Best news I got all month.”
I tipped my head. “Back in the day one coven leader got hit and all the wizes would circle the wagons.”
He spit on the ground. “Case you haven’t noticed the He-bitch is the last of the old guard still in the game. This a new era, where the strongest wiz wins.”
Morales raised a brow. “Wait, just so we’re clear, by ‘strongest’ you’re referring to yourself?”
Two white brows pulled together like angry caterpillars. “Of course.”
“I can see how the capable assistance of Tweedledee and Tweedledum would convince you of that.”
The guy with the blade sucked loudly at his front teeth.
Harry’s frown was back. That was always the worst thing about him. Mean, I could handle, but mean and stupid was a lethal combination. “Anyway,” I said. As much as I enjoyed watching Morales deliver insults that flew over their heads, it was kind of like watching an armed gunman threaten children. “Turns out Aphrodite’s break-in wasn’t an isolated incident. There’s a new Raven on the streets, and we have reason to believe he might target other covens.”
Harry’s chin came up. “Let the asshole try. He gotta be suicidal to come after the Sangs.”
I barely managed not to roll my eyes. Harry was only weeks into his leadership of his daddy’s coven, so he made the perfect target for a Raven. Mercenary wizards loved to strike fragmented covens, because they had the weakest infrastructure. My guess was, despite Harry’s bravado, he had his hands full of pissing matches among his lieutenants on down the chain as everyone scrambled for position under the new leadership.
“Yeah, yeah,” Morales said. “We get it. I’m sure you got lots of new blood potions some Raven would love to steal.”
“That’s—” Harry caught himself and narrowed his eyes. “That’s bullshit, man. You can’t entrap me.”
“All right,” I said. “Look, this Raven goes by the name Dionysus.” I pulled out a photocopy of the picture Owens had shared.
“Looks like a fag.” He crumpled the image between his pale fingers. “This asshole steps up to me or mine, I’m a put a bullet in his mercenary ass and throw the body on a trash trawler.”
I sighed. “Look, tough guy, I’m gonna give you some advice for free on account of you helped us put your daddy in the can—and in exchange we kept you out of it, I might add. You ready?” At the mention of how we’d blackmailed him into turning state’s evidence on his father, his cheeks flared red. “Threatening to murder someone in front of cops is bad juju.”
“Fuck off, bitch.”
“Watch yourself, asshole,” Morales said, his voice low and mean.
I shook my head at Morales. “How’s your dad doing, anyway?” I asked, going for the jugular in my own way.
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t know. They got him locked away someplace safe while he waits for trial.” He shrugged. “Not that he’d talk to me anyway.”
“Maybe once he’s in Crowley,” Morales said, “you can sneak him in some cigarettes and buy back his love.”
“I don’t give a fuck, man. The old man wouldn’t even be in this position if he turned on Abe like I told him.”
I froze. From the corner of my eye I saw Morales’s muscles flex like he was about to pounce on that information like a dog on a juicy steak. “What’s your dad got on Abe?”
Harry snorted. “Shit, man, some cop you are. Everyone knows Abe was the one put Dad up to framing Volos.”
If I didn’t think quick, Morales’s investigative instincts were going to take over and cause a lot of fucking problems for me. “Guess your dad doesn’t have enough evidence to frame Abe for the crime or he already would have done it.”
“Frame him?” Harry laughed. “Ha!”
“Evidence against Abe would be a get-out-of-jail-free card,” I said. “If he had it to use, Ramses would already be out of jail.”
I chanced a glance at Morales. He looked less intense, but not exactly convinced, either. Harry just shook his head like we were both naive, and I was content to let him go on thinking that. “Look,” I said, “you see Dionysus around or hear anything about his plans, just call me, okay?” I handed him a business card.
“Detective, huh?” He glanced down at it. His lips made a mocking sound. “They let just any bitch be one of those these days, I guess.”
“A pleasure talking to you as always, Harry.”
“Fuck off.” With that he tossed the card in the dirt and walked back toward the trailer.
“Well,” Morales said, “that guy’s about as useful as a knuckle on a dick.”
I shrugged. “Better than dealing with Volos.”
We started walking back toward the car. Morales’s head was down, a bad sign since it meant he was probably thinking. “You think Abe’s getting away with murder on the Gray Wolf case?”
I kept my stride even and my reaction cool so he wouldn’t see how much this topic affected me. “I think Abe’s gotten away with a lot of murder, both metaphorical and literal. But I know the last thing we need is to chase down hearsay from a blood wizard when we’ve got a different psycho threatening the city.”
He paused, thinking it over. I tried not to look like I was praying he’d let it drop. Finally, he shrugged. “Maybe Harry’s right. If Ramses has proof Abe was behind Gray Wolf he would use it to plea-bargain.”
I let out a breath. “You’re probably right.”
He smiled that Morales smile. “ ’Course I am, Cupcake.”
I smiled back. Not because I thought he was right, but because I was happy to let him go on believing I was wrong.