Arms Dealers

by Erik Henry Vick

  May rolled his eyes. “I meant your partner, Oriscoe.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out, May.” He arched both eyebrows. “Lothidn?”

  May threw another short glance at Dru and wrinkled his nose. “It’s my nature to pierce illusions.”

  “And what nature is that?”

  “May used to be Shuten-doji, Dru.”

  She cast a blank gaze in Leery’s direction.

  “I’m the offspring of an Oni.”

  “A Japanese ogre?”

  May shrugged. “More of a demon, but you may call them what you will.”

  “Okay.”

  “Remember when you told me who is immune to your charms?”

  Dru nodded, studying May’s face.

  “Incubi, immune humans, and vampires, you said.”

  “Yes.”

  “Shuten-doji survives off the blood of the injured.”

  “Ah!” Dru’s face transformed with a sunny smile. “That explains it.”

  May turned to Leery. “Lesson’s over. Why do you want Lothidn?”

  “His name came up in an investigation.”

  May lifted a single eyebrow, his gaze intensifying.

  “Your tricks won’t work on me, May. You know that.”

  He smiled and gave a little shrug, as if to say you can’t blame me for trying. “I guess it doesn’t matter in any case. Lothidn has left the fight game.”

  “Oh?” asked Leery.

  “Yes. He got a better offer he said. Something where the blood wasn’t his.” May turned and stared out the window. “He wanted a better quality of life, it seems.”

  “You have his address?”

  May gestured toward the bridge. “He lives in the Queens Bridge Housing complex. Off 41st and 10th Street. Second floor. Right by the staircase.”

  “It’s not bad anymore. Green space, events, gardening.”

  “He wanted a bigger place, I guess. He is a troll, after all.”

  “Right.”

  “But don’t bother heading over there.”

  Leery arched an eyebrow.

  “He already moved. I have no idea to where.”

  “You could have led with that, May.”

  John smiled and winked.

  11

  Leery pulled the cruiser’s two passenger wheels up on the sidewalk outside the precinct house and killed the ignition. He glanced at Dru, eyebrow quirked.

  “No,” she said. “I’ve given up.”

  “You learn quick, kid.”

  “I sure do, Old Spice.”

  “Right, I forgot.” He grinned and opened his door. “Come on. Time to inaugurate you into one of the SIS traditions: Lunch with the lieu.”

  “But I don’t eat.”

  “Yeah, I know that, Nogan, but I do. It’s more of a working lunch, anyway.” They made their way to the squad room, Leery holding a fresh cup of coffee and a sandwich from the vending machines in the lobby. He bypassed their desks in favor of Lieutenant Van Helsing’s office and slumped into one of her guest chairs.

  Dru paused at the door, scanning the office, which appeared empty. She sank into the other chair, her gaze slinking around the room, looking for any disturbance in the air that might give away the lieu’s presence.

  “Relax, Nogan,” said Van Helsing’s disembodied voice. She appeared in the corner behind her desk, up near the ceiling, and floated down to sit in her chair. She spared Leery and his sandwich a glance, then turned her gaze to Dru. “Not eating? Don’t fast on my behalf.”

  Dru fidgeted, her gaze dropping to her lap.

  “Oh, that’s right,” crooned the lieutenant. “Your meals involve coitus.”

  Dru sniffed but held her tongue.

  “Come on, Lieu,” said Leery through a mouthful of egg salad.

  “I can’t believe you eat egg salad out of those disgusting machines, Oriscoe.”

  “Hey, I like egg salad. And it’s not as though it’ll kill me if it’s bad.” He took a gulp of coffee and smacked his lips. “Plus, this vending machine coffee is guaranteed to kill anything that can be killed—bacteria included.”

  Van Helsing shook her head, then turned her gaze back to Dru, her lip starting to curl.

  “Anyway. We made some progress on the Willams-Costello murders.” He downed another mouthful of egg salad and coffee. “Then we hit a wall.”

  “Oh?” Van Helsing arched an eyebrow, her gaze boring into Dru’s.

  “We have a name: Lothidn. He’s another Norwegian Wood Troll, and we’re told he was amenable to working with the unseelie.” Dru returned Van Helsing’s gaze with a calm, graceful demeanor.

  “Oh?” the lieu repeated.

  “Sure,” said Leery. “It seems he wanted a better apartment, so he was open to opportunities involving larger sums than he could make in illegal fights.”

  Epatha’s head snapped around. “Shuten-doji is involved?”

  Leery shook his head. “It doesn’t look like it. Lothidn worked for him but left for the new opportunity.”

  The lieu’s eyes narrowed. “Still. I don’t like it. Shuten-doji organized that massacre back in Japan. He bears watching.”

  “He left all that behind, Lieu,” said Leery.

  “So he says.”

  “Right. I’ve got my eye on him, just in case. Besides, he was helpful this time.”

  “Helpful and truthful aren’t the same thing. You can’t trust the word of a demon’s offspring.” She turned her head at a languid pace to stare at Dru.

  “Come on, Lieu,” said Leery, dribbling egg salad into his lap. “She’s done good. You know she has. Cut her a break.”

  Epatha sighed and pursed her lips. “Yeah,” she sighed. “I’m having a bad day.”

  “Anything we can do?” asked Leery.

  “Not a thing. But thanks.” Van Helsing closed her translucent eyelids for a moment, her gaze remaining locked on Leery’s. “What’s the wall you hit?”

  “May knew his old address but said Lothidn had already moved on. He doesn’t know where to.”

  “That’s not a wall, Leery. You know he has to live in the shadow of a bridge.”

  “Sure, Lieu, but which bridge? Anyway, there’s got to be thousands of apartments in the shadow of one of the city’s bridges.”

  “Have you heard of computers, Oriscoe? They’re these almost magic doodads that let you find information quickly. The department even has some.”

  Leery wagged his head back and forth. “Yeah, yeah. We’re getting to that right after lunch.”

  Epatha arched an eyebrow. “It seems like you’re the only one eating, Leery.”

  “Hey, I can’t help it you’re dead, and she eats… Well, I can’t help it if I’m the only one that needs food. I need it, regardless.”

  “And we’re here to keep you company?” Van Helsing tipped a wink at Dru.

  “Sure. It’s a working lunch.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Get to work, Leery.”

  12

  Leery thumped his laptop. “I can’t make this damn thing work.” He snarled at the screen and slid his fingers across the keyboard in random directions. “There, you bastard. Try that for my password.”

  Hiding a smile, Dru slid her chair around to his side of their paired desks. “Here. Let me try.”

  “Be my guest,” said Leery, pushing away from the laptop. “But the damn thing’s broken, I’m telling you.”

  Dru clacked a few keys and clicked the mouse. “There you go, Leery,” she said, ducking her head so he couldn’t see her amusement.

  “How in the…” He peered down at the screen. “How’d you do that? Even I don’t know my password.”

  “I took a guess.”

  “A guess? Fess up. You used your magic, right?”

  “No. You’ve never changed your password from the default algorithm.”

  “Algorithm? Default? Why didn’t someone tell me?” He glared around the room.

  “I wrote it on your pad there. You should change it to something you’ll reme
mber.”

  “Right, like I know how to do that.”

  Dru smiled at him. “I’ll show you when we get back.”

  “From where?”

  “I’ve got Lothidn’s address from the Locus Census Bureau. We should take backup so we don’t have to chase him, too.”

  13

  Leery and Dru stood against the wall in the corridor outside Lothidn’s apartment, standing behind the Servitor Warriors and Therianthropes entry team. Composed of two translucent humans in glowing body armor—servitor warriors for a pair of wizards outside in the command vehicle—and four therianthropes: a Ketuan skin-walker, a young werewolf, a Garudan, and leading them all, a Ganeshan.

  The Ganeshan turned his elephantine head to look at Leery, flapping his giant ears in agitation. Thick muscles and limbs filled out his wide human body, giving him the look of something out of a comic book.

  “What?” Leery whispered.

  With a glance at the eagle-headed Garudan, the Ganeshan snorted through his trunk.

  “Which door?” grated one of the servitors.

  “29B,” said Dru.

  The Ganeshan nodded and turned toward the door.

  “You have a team covering the back?” asked Leery.

  “Yes,” said the servitor in a strange voice that brought ringing bells to mind. “Stay back. We’ll tell you when it’s clear.”

  “Claw and Warder, remember?” said Dru. “We’ll come in with you.”

  The Ketuan skin-walker crossed both sets of arms and shook his head, swaying slightly on the snake’s tail that served as his lower body. “We’ve got this. You’d get in the way,” he said.

  “But—”

  The young werewolf glared at Dru through narrowed eyelids and growled.

  “Fine,” said Leery, laying his hand on Dru’s arm. “We’ll wait here.”

  With a grunt, the Ganeshan lowered his head and charged the door, slamming into it with his tusks and massive forehead. He jerked his head up and back, ripping the door out of its frame, while spinning out of the way with the grace of a dancer. The servitor warriors slid through the wall in absolute silence.

  With an ear-piercing screech, the Garudan charged through the door with the young wolf hot on his heels. The Ketuan slithered in behind them, a shotgun in his upper pair of hands and two pistols in the lower set.

  Dru stepped toward the door, peering inside. “Come on, Leery. Let’s get in there.”

  “No, Dru, wait for the all-clear signal. No reason for us to get sweaty. SWAT is on it.”

  The Ganeshan shook the remains of the door from his tusks and glared at them, holding up a hand and shaking his head.

  A basso bellow sounded from the depths of the apartment, followed by a crash and the shriek of the Garudan. The Ganeshan lowered his head and tusks, then pelted into the apartment.

  Dru almost danced in place, her gaze locked on the open door. “I hate standing out here while they have all the fun.”

  “Hey, they have all the risk, too. It’s what they live for, Dru. Let them do their jobs.”

  Dru grunted and took a step forward. “I never pegged you for a coward, Leery.”

  “Coward? Nah. I’ll take what risks I have to, but there’s no reason to take unnecessary ones.” He blew out a breath. “Relax, Dru. It’ll only take them a minute.”

  A crash of thunder came from the doorway followed by a heavy grunt and another cacophony of broken furniture and glass. Then, silence.

  One of the servitors stuck his head through the wall. “Come on in,” he said in metallic tones.

  “Finally,” Dru muttered and strode through the door. With a wry grin, Leery followed her.

  The apartment was a wreck. Broken furniture littered the main room, and a massive hole in the drywall added a new door to the master suite. The four therianthropes lay in a pile at the foot of the overlarge bed.

  Dru and Leery entered through the hole in the wall, stepping over shards of glass from a broken mirror and the coffee table’s top. “Is Lothidn under there?” asked Leery with a grin.

  “Cuffs!” snapped the Ketuan, holding out a hand from the dogpile.

  “Better use two sets,” said Leery. He held out his hand for Dru’s set, while drawing his own set out of the leather case he wore in the small of his back.

  Dru slapped her cuffs in his hand and turned toward the bathroom suite. “Is the place clear?”

  “Yes,” said one of the servitors. “We cleared the rest of the apartment while the therianthropes apprehended the suspect.”

  “Well, good,” said Dru in a quiet voice.

  Leery put the handcuffs into the skin-walker’s hand. “Relax down there, Lothidn. We have a few questions for you and decided you’d be more comfortable down at the station.”

  A moment of silence followed, punctuated by the clicking of two pairs of handcuffs. “Unnh. What do you want?”

  The werewolf rolled off the pile, followed by the Garudan, who took a moment to smooth his feathers.

  “We’ll get to that when we’re all comfortable and drinking coffee. You do like coffee, right, Lothidn?”

  “Unh, sure.”

  “Good. Relax, and we’ll get this straightened out.”

  “I don’t like handcuffs. Nunnh.”

  Dru puffed a sigh between her pursed lips. “Why did we come along? I hate feeling useless.”

  “Relax, Dru. I’ll get you a cup, too.”

  14

  Leery pushed through the interview room door with his shoulder, carrying a tray filled with four cups of coffee. Dru sat across the small table from Lothidn, who, if anything, was even bigger than Einar. He dwarfed her and the table, both, and made the room feel like a closet.

  “Well, isn’t this cozy?” asked Leery as he set the drink tray in the middle of the table. He grabbed one of the extra-large steaming Styrofoam cups and took a sip. “Mmm. Just like Mom used to make.” He nodded at Dru’s cell phone lying on the table. “Get his picture?”

  Dru clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. “Of course.”

  “This is the one with seventy-eight sugars,” he said, tapping the cup closest to her.

  “I’ll pass, thanks.”

  “Lothidn?”

  “Unnh.” The troll leaned forward and took one of the cups, which looked very small in his large mitt.

  “Now, Lothidn, we understand you recently left John Michael May’s employ?”

  “Unh. But that’s not his name.”

  “Yeah, we know. Shuten-doji. But you gave up the fight game?”

  “No competition. Nunh.” He rolled his massive shoulders.

  “Come on, Lothidn. The way we heard it—from two separate sources, mind you—you, uh, got a better offer.”

  Lothidn drew his mouth into a severe line. “Who told you that?”

  “It doesn’t matter. The point is: we know.”

  Again, the Norwegian Wood Troll shrugged his shoulders. “Then why you ask me?”

  “It establishes trust and rapport when you answer with the truth. When you lie, we know you’re a liar, so…”

  The troll chuckled—a sound like boulders grating together in a bad storm.

  “What was the offer?” asked Dru, leaning forward and tapping the table.

  “Nunh. I think I want a magister.”

  “What do you need a magister for? All I asked is about your new job.”

  Lothidn scratched his stubble-covered chin. “Unnh, but maybe I don’t want to tell you.”

  “Why not, Lothidn?” asked Dru, her voice laced with a sweetness usually reserved for virgins.

  The troll glanced at her, then averted his eyes. “Nunh.”

  “What’s the matter? You’ve never seen a beautiful woman before?” asked Leery with a grin for Dru.

  “Unnnh. I’ve seen beautiful females. Rutted with them.” He grunted and waved a hand at Dru. “She’s too small. Too…delicate. Nunnh. I’d hurt her.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised, Lothidn. In fact, I’d say
you were the one in danger of injury.” Leery rubbed his shoulder. “Take it from me. Her kind can get rough in the bedroom.”

  “Unnnnh,” sighed Lothidn. He turned his gaze back on Dru and examined every inch of her he could see.

  A small smile played on Dru’s lips, and she touched the tip of her tongue to the center of her upper lip. A buzzing noise issued from her open mouth, and Lothidn tensed, eyes open very wide.

  “Hey, Dru, I think he likes you.”

  “I know he likes me, Leery,” she said in a sultry voice, her gaze locked on Lothidn’s. “But I’m not sure I like him.”

  “Oh, don’t go hurting his feelings.”

  If Lothidn heard their exchange, he gave no sign. His nutmeg-colored skin flushed and sweat beaded on his brow.

  Dru’s eyes sparkled, and she pushed herself away from the table. “No,” she said in a suddenly cold voice. “I don’t like men who keep secrets.”

  Lothidn reacted as if she’d slapped him, pulling his chin back and frowning. “Nunh. You play a dangerous game.”

  Van Helsing floated through the mirrored window and crooked her finger at Dru. “Outside, now.”

  Leery blew out his breath and stood. He and Dru crossed to the door to the observation room and went through it.

  “Lieu, we were getting somewhere—”

  “Shut it, Leery!” snapped Van Helsing. She flickered invisible, and when she reappeared a heartbeat later, she stood three inches from Dru, a ghostly finger held straight up. “What did you think you were doing in there, strumpet?”

  “Interviewing the suspect.”

  “Oh, is that what that little display was?” The corner of the lieu’s mouth turned down. “That’s funny, because to me it appeared you were seducing that troll.”

  Dru shook her head.

  “Don’t deny it!”

  “Come on, Lieu,” said Leery. “The Canon and Covenants allow us to use our natural gifts in all phases of an invest—”

  Flickering in and out of view, Van Helsing held up her palm. “Don’t you dare, Oriscoe. Don’t you dare quote the C and C to me. The tart’s behavior goes beyond the pale.” She turned away from them both and began to pace, still fluttering in and out of phase with the visible spectrum. “Dangerous! Irresponsible!”

  “No, I was in complete control of the situation.”

  “Don’t give me that, harlot.”