I opened the top drawer of his desk, the one he'd reached for during my last visit. Sure enough, a nine millimeter rested inside. I closed the drawer and opened the drawer below it.
"What are you doing in here?" a voice asked.
I jumped back about a foot and knocked against the bookshelf. "Niko?"
He stood framed in the doorway, wearing his usual tasteful suit and pastel tie. I noticed Mickey lurking behind him.
"Are you guys following me again? I thought I told you that wasn't a good idea."
Niko held up his hands. "We're not following you regularly. We heard about your unfortunate encounter on Willow Street, and the boss asked us to check on your progress." He faltered. "And you, of course. Make sure you're okay."
He genuinely seemed to care. I sighed inwardly. Niko was too nice for his line of work.
"As you can see, I'm fine." I cocked my head, thinking. "How did you hear about my unfortunate encounter?"
"O'Leary told us."
"And how did he find out?" I pressed him.
Niko glanced back at Mickey and they both shrugged.
"I think it was Pinky," Mickey said. "That kid's pretty plugged in."
"So why are you in Hugo's office?" Niko asked.
I straightened a few papers on the desk. "He was supposed to set up a meeting for me. I was checking on whether he followed through."
"What kind of meeting?" Mickey asked.
I decided to be straight with them. "I need to talk to your mysterious organ trafficker and Hugo agreed to make it happen."
They exchanged glances.
"Doesn't have anything to do with the heirloom, does it?" Niko asked.
I shook my head. "I'm trying to keep myself out of prison. Someone's trying to frame me for the murders of the supernaturals and humans."
"Or add you to the list of victims," Mickey said.
He wasn't wrong. Willow Street was not a frame job. It was a death trap.
"The text I received said I'd be meeting with the organ guy, so it had to be someone who knew I was trying to make that happen." Of course, that list was fairly long. I'd been shooting my mouth off to a lot of people since I'd been back. I really needed to stop doing that.
"Well, you're not going to get any answers here," Niko said. "Why don't you let us take you home? You look like you could use some rest."
I eyed them. "Do you guys know how I can get in touch with the organ trafficker?" Let them be good for something besides stalking me.
They shook their heads.
"We don't know who he is, but O'Leary does," Niko said. "We'll ask him for you."
"I appreciate that. Where'd you park the Challenger?"
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. I guess he didn't expect me to take them up on their offer.
"Out front," he replied.
"Good, I'll let you take me back to South Street. This time." It seemed more convenient than paying for a cab and less painful than walking.
"Shotgun," I called, as we crossed the sidewalk.
Mickey scowled at me but dutifully slid into the back of the car. I flashed a triumphant smile as I climbed into the passenger seat. Although the mobsters weren't quite at Protectorate level, it was comforting to know that their honor code still included claims of shotgun.
Chapter Twenty-Three
That evening, Farah had a date with Rocco, so I decided to insert myself into the life of my other best friend. The fact that Mix and Paulette were having a date night of their own didn't really impact my decision. I needed a station to park my crazy train and Mix's apartment was it.
I tossed another piece of popcorn into my mouth and kept on talking. My mind was in overdrive, which meant that Mix and Paulette had no chance of finishing their movie in peace.
"Someone sent those Ifrits to kill me. I know it. You should've seen the way they attacked us. It was like WWF meets The Bachelor with ugly people. It had to be the rogue mage. Maybe she's working with the organ trafficker, targeting the Nephilim." I tapped my chin. "Where is the damn organ guy hiding?"
"Alyse, could you possibly wait until the conclusion of one drama before presenting us with another?" Mix asked.
"It's Lord of the Stinkin' Rings," I said, stepping in front of the television. "You already know what happens. My drama is more exciting. We don't know how it will end."
"If you keep standing there," he said, "I can think of a few options."
I flopped back onto the sofa. "This is life and death and you don't even care. Is this what law firm life does to you?"
"Jeremy, she needs your help," Paulette said in a soothing tone. "Let's finish the movie later."
"Thank you, Paulette," I said and offered her the bowl of popcorn.
Mix turned off the television and looked at me. "Happy now?"
"Well, happy is a bit of a stretch but..."
Mix rolled his eyes. "Organ traffickers need a place to store their wares, right?"
"And possibly a place to perform the surgeries as well," I said. It depended on their level of involvement in the process. They might simply transport the organs to eager buyers on the black market, or they might go so far as to run private clinics with a team of doctors and nurses. Usually the donors were vulnerable and desperate for cash. There seemed to be no shortage of those. They were human, though. Their organs wouldn't fetch the steep price of the Nephilim organs.
"What about Pennsbury Hospital?" Paulette suggested. "That's still empty, right?"
I vaulted off the sofa. "Paulette, that's brilliant." I snapped my fingers. "Let's go. Mix, you can drive. Drop me off about two blocks away. Their surveillance won't extend that far."
Mix groaned and buried his face in his hands. "You can't do this, Alyse."
I blinked. "Do what?"
He faced Paulette. "Would you mind giving us a few minutes? I need to talk to Alyse alone."
Paulette nodded. "Of course, Jeremy. It's beautiful weather outside. I'll go for a walk."
"This won't take long," Mix said, his eyes focused back on me. He seemed pissed off. My stomach clenched. I'd only ever seen Mix angry a handful of times. It was unsettling.
Paulette picked up her handbag and vacated the sofa. Mix waited until he heard the click of the front door before continuing the conversation.
"Are you trying to ruin my life?" he asked.
"What do you mean? What's wrong?" I asked.
He stood and paced the room, his agitated hands flying in all directions. "I have spent the last few years pulling myself together, creating a semi-normal life for myself. I have a good job, a girlfriend, my own place."
"And how am I ruining that?" I'd been in town for five minutes. I wasn't talented enough to ruin his life that quickly.
He stopped in front of me. "Alyse, wherever you go, trouble follows. I was sad when you left, heartbroken even, but after a while, I realized that my life was easier without you in it."
One of my best friends was telling me that his life was better without me. I staggered backward like he punched me in the gut.
"Where is this coming from?"
"I didn't want to say anything because you came here under tough circumstances, but things are quickly spiraling out of control. You're like Trouble's whipping girl and you don't seem to care."
"How could you possibly think I don't care?"
"Because you're you," he said. "Nothing fazes you. You're like the Energizer Bunny. You just keep going. You don't ever take time to process. To feel." He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "Don't you feel anything, Alyse?"
The pained expression on his face made me want to cry, but the tears stopped somewhere between my heart and my brain.
"Of course I have feelings," I said quietly. "This whole experience has been torture." Mix didn't understand. When you're a covert agent, stopping to process gets you killed. Feelings get you killed. I was trained to handle intense and dangerous situations without breaking a sweat. Cool as a cucumber. That's how I survived every lethal encounter so far,
and that's how I intended to survive my current predicament.
"I'm sorry about your cuffs," he said. "I really am. And I know that you have nothing to do with these murders, so I hope you clear your name, but I am trying very hard not to get dragged down with you. I have Paulette to consider now. I can't run headlong into trouble whenever you snap your fingers."
He stood up and straightened his shoulders, his face beet red with anger and frustration. I'd never seen Mix so worked up. His feelings for Paulette were stronger than I realized.
"I haven't asked you to run headlong into anything," I said. "Even before I left, I never asked you. You just did it."
"Because you knew I would," he said. "You knew how I felt about you and you used those feelings to your advantage."
I shook my head in disbelief. "Mix, I thought we'd moved on from all that a long time ago. I never used you. I wouldn't do that to someone I care about."
"Times have changed, Alyse. I don't know if there's room for you anymore," he said. "To be perfectly honest, I think it's too hard having you back in my life."
I winced.
"If it's any consolation, if I don't find the real killers, I won't be back in your life for very long." I gave him a rueful smile.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I think you should go. I have a quiet evening of Orcs and Hobbits planned with my girlfriend and I don't need any more interruptions."
I was an unwelcome interruption. He wasn't kidding -- times really had changed.
"I'm sorry, Mix. Truly. I'll get to the hospital on my own. I never meant to cause you any trouble."
I let myself out, feeling dejected. Paulette was on the sidewalk out front, her thumbs working their way through a text.
"I'm going now," I told her. "Sorry if I ruined the movie."
"It's okay." She smiled and patted my arm. "I'm sure Jeremy will come around. I know he hasn't given up on you. Not really. He talks about you all the time."
"Yes, but do the words he uses involve lots of curses?"
"You two have a long history. That doesn't disappear overnight because one of you is upset."
"Thanks, Paulette. I wish he were as understanding as you."
"It's easy for me," she said with a shrug. "I'm not the one he's upset with."
She went back inside and I knew it was time to take matters into my own hands. I couldn't afford to waste another day waiting for the mysterious organ trafficker to make contact.
My phone buzzed and I glanced at it. You'll find your man at Pennsbury Hospital. Niko and Mickey must have given my request to O'Leary. Ah well, at least it confirmed my destination.
I adjusted my holster and went on my way. I didn't bother to call for backup. Mix was right -- I made life too difficult and dangerous for the people closest to me.
So I hopped on a bus and headed for trouble all by myself.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Pennsbury Hospital has been abandoned for over twenty years. It isn't chock full of asbestos like the Willow Steam Plant. After the hospital closed due to bankruptcy, the building became tied up in a never-ending loop of litigation. As a result, it's sat empty and unprotected, waiting for the day it can rise from the ashes as luxury condos.
I got off at a bus stop five blocks away to get the lay of the land. This part of the city wasn't familiar to me so I had no clue what was around. If I needed somewhere to duck for cover after they chased my ass out of there, it would be good to know what my options were.
The entire area looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Rotting buildings, rusting cars, an eerie quiet. The old hospital lorded over this urban decay, a menacing tower in the distance.
My Ghul antenna was pinging wildly. This was their kind of place. Gloomy and forgotten. If you wandered through here on the wrong night without precautions, I guarantee you weren't walking out again.
I patted the Glock in my holster for comfort. Then I unsheathed the jade daggers to slice my way through the overgrown grass. I was pretty sure that I'd reached the area that had once been the parking lot, which meant I was close enough for their surveillance.
Once I got close enough to grab their attention, I stopped walking and held my hands in the air, still clutching the daggers. Then I made a big show of sheathing the daggers and placing my hands on my head. This wasn't a sneak attack. I needed to make it clear that I wanted to talk. If his operation ran the way I thought it did, he had men running surveillance round the clock.
A minute later two figures emerged from a side door of the hospital. His security team was coming to greet me.
I remained rooted to the ground, still in my submissive pose. Flynn would be so disappointed that he missed it.
I kept the men in my line of sight. Dark suits and ties. Definitely members of the crime syndicate. Who wore charcoal-colored suits in the height of summer? I bet they wore white after Labor Day, too.
"Hey fellas," I called. I was careful not to make any sudden moves. I had the sense that we could open fire here and no one within earshot would call the police. "I'm looking for your boss. Is he in?"
They halted about ten feet from me. "Depends who's asking," the taller one with a buzz cut said. A nasty scar ran down his left cheek. Despite the nice suits, these guys weren't for window dressing.
"Alyse Winters," I replied. "I'm doing a job for O'Leary."
Scarface stood quietly for a moment, as though listening intently. He must be wired. It was hard to gauge the boss man's reply. I flexed my fingers, just in case.
Finally, Scarface gestured for me to step forward. "No weapons," he said. His short, stocky friend held out a hand.
Reluctantly, I removed my daggers and handed them over. "Keep them where I can see them," I warned. "They have sentimental value. My best friend gave them to me as a welcome home present."
I took a step forward, but Scarface's arm shot out to keep me in place. He eyed me suspiciously. "And the firearm."
I huffed loudly. "Let me guess. You guys have a mage, too. I hope yours is as skilled as Pinky. Otherwise, I'd recommend trading up."
I pulled the Glock from my holster and gave it to Scarface.
The shorter one urged me forward with a sharp blow to my shoulder blade.
"Lighten up," I said. "I'm here to talk. If I were here to fight, you'd be dead already."
I fixed him with my hard stare. It was a look I'd perfected over time. Of course, the hard stare dovetailed nicely with the awesome powers that I no longer had access to, but these guys didn't know that.
The security detail didn't speak for the remainder of the walk. They simply escorted me inside the hospital and brought me to an empty corridor. The cracked floor tiles and partially exposed wires in the ceiling made the place look as derelict on the inside as it did on the outside.
"This is what Medicare gets you," I said.
Their expressions didn't change. The corridor emptied into what used to be the large lobby. The reception desk still stood in the center of the room, along with a graffitied car and about twenty hazardous waste bins.
"A very welcoming space," I said, surveying the decaying interior. At one time, the lobby would have been open and airy with its huge windows and high ceiling.
"Miss Winters," a man's voice said. Smooth as silk.
I looked up. An attractive man leaned against the railing at the top of the curved staircase. He was average height, with a slim build and a deeply tanned face. His dark hair was thick and wavy. I bet he could grow a mustache in a day if he wanted to. Despite his professionally dressed friends, he sported cargo shorts and a black T-shirt.
"You must be the man I'm looking for," I said.
"Why don't you join me upstairs and we'll find out?"
I glanced sharply at my escorts. "You lose my weapons, I lose my temper."
No reaction again. Tough crowd.
Slowly, I walked upstairs to meet their boss, effecting a casual attitude. No need for them to figure out that I was actually powerless without my weapons, un
less their mage had already ruined my secret.
"Is it casual Friday?" I asked, noting his black flip-flops. "Your friends didn't get the memo."
He cracked a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. They were like two hard stones and solely focused on me. "I notice that you seem equally at home in casual clothes."
He eyed my soccer mom attire, and I noticed the gentle, disapproving curl of his lip. He had no idea how much I missed my designer clothes and overpriced heels.
"This is a nice place you have here," I said. "A lick of paint and you'll be fighting off the buyers."
As he moved closer to me, the strong stench of men's cologne nearly knocked me back down the staircase. He smelled like he'd been trapped for a month inside the glass fragrance counter at the mall.
"My name is Vito Nocita." He extended his hand and I shook it, trying not to breathe too deeply. I saw his gaze drift to my copper cuff. "Why don't we move to a more private room where we can speak freely?"
Without waiting for a response, he flip-flopped his way down a nearby corridor. The walls up here were filled with large, dark patches, probably from long-term water damage.
He stepped into a room halfway down the corridor and I followed him inside. When he closed the door behind me, I tried not to flinch. The room was empty except for a rusty bed frame and a defunct overhead light. The walls were covered in blue tiles, many of them cracked and chipped. It was hard to imagine that this was once a room where people were healed. It looked more like the setting of a horror movie.
"It appears that we have mutual friends," Vito said.
"Friends is a bit of a stretch," I replied.
"Be that as it may, I understand you are looking for something of value."
I nodded. "An heirloom that belongs to Jimmy O'Leary."
Vito looked at me expectantly. "Anything else?"
"I'm also investigating the recent murders."
He nodded solemnly. "The Nephilim."
"And others."
"And you think because organs were missing that we may have played a role in these murders." His tone was casual, as though I'd asked whether he'd attended last week's Phillies game.
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