by Domino Finn
Then again, it surprised me how much hearing her voice lifted my spirits. It was psychological commiseration. And it made sense. Milena and I had both experienced the same loss. The same pain. The isolation it created was a familiar cloak. When I took a moment to look beyond myself, I realized she was strong-arming me into a date for the very same reason. Milena needed a friend. Someone from back in the day. Someone to help make her whole.
I got that. I just didn't know if I was qualified for the job.
I trudged back to her grandfather's house. Walking was slower than driving. There was too much silence (and Spanish wraiths are dismal at small talk). The peace gave me too much time to dwell on things. Milena's feelings. The conversation with Seleste. The awful last moments of my family's life. I'd always known my parents were worried about my spellcraft. My life was now the ultimate I-told-you-so.
I shook the thought away. Some things can never be fixed. My parents would at least know better now. And Seleste, my sweet sister, had never doubted me. In a way, that made her death hurt most of all. She'd been the youngest. The baby of the family, but with the biggest prospects. As the big brother, I'd failed in my job to protect her.
My good deed today was little comfort when it was me that had put her in that position in the first place.
Again I found myself combating claustrophobic guilt. I was a master of shadows, but this one would always tame me. The best I could do was shove it down. Put it in a place inside me so deep, the darkness blended together and smothered it. Maybe if I ignored the darkness, I would forget it was ever there.
I hate long walks.
The solitude must have been therapeutic, though, because I was slowly able to turn my thoughts to something positive. The gears in my head switched from dwelling to producing, to moving forward. My last week had been a combination of fighting for my life and following leads. New information was the only thing that advanced my plight, and I'd just found some.
Zombie Cisco hadn't just attacked his family for the Horn. I'd demanded to see a family album. Why was anybody's guess, but if the violence erupted before they retrieved the genealogy, maybe I'd never gotten my hands on it at all.
After my family was murdered, my friend Evan had retrieved boxes of my belongings. It stood to reason that he might have the album. In fact, Emily might've tucked it away, for our daughter's sake. If the thing still existed, I should start with them.
The truck and my keys were right where they were supposed to be. The old pickup started easily and I made a U-turn onto the street, heading for my friend's house. A loud voice blared over the speakers, an overenthusiastic DJ announcing a giveaway. I shut the radio off and listened to the engine as it rumbled over the empty streets. The ride was smooth, but there was a hitch whenever I pressed the brakes. Maybe the engine mounts were loose from the accident.
The speakers came to life again. Country music droned throughout the cabin.
"What the hell?"
This time I just lowered the volume, remembering Milena's jab about the sad country song. That didn't bother me. I'd had a pretty good day, considering. But the music weirded me out. I doubted there was a legit country music station in Miami. I turned the knob through static until the same song took over.
Two glowing eyes appeared in my rearview mirror. The skull floated behind me.
"Do you need to keep doing that?" I asked. "It's creepy."
Even though his shoulders were invisible, I could tell he shrugged. "I merely wish to know if I can be of assistance."
"Three favors," I said, turning off the radio. "I get it. We're down that road which means I've promised to free you. But no, I'm not going to waste your favors on radio reception."
The wraith blinked calmly. "I'm afraid your radio is perfectly fine. It's the poltergeist that's the problem."
My tongue caught in my throat. The gas gauge and the oil pan. The knocks in the engine. They'd all started after the accident with the possessed hatchback. Normally I'd attribute the failures to physical damage, but with the way things had been the last few days...
"There's a ghost here? In the car with us?"
"You have ghosts all around you."
A chill ran up my spine. "A poltergeist then. Here?"
"Yes. A meek little man."
"If he's the same one that crashed into me and tried to drown me in a Dodge Neon, he wasn't all that meek."
Poltergeists remained in the physical world by attaching to physical objects. It was possible the ghost transferred from one vehicle to the other at some point.
"That attack would have taken great effort on his part.," explained the wraith. "He is faded. Clinging to his old life. He doesn't have much left."
I pondered his words. "What does he look like?" I quickly added, "And this doesn't count as a favor."
The Spaniard nodded. "An islander thug with a skull painted on his face."
I grunted. During my time as a zombie, I'd executed several hits against prominent members of Haitian voodoo gangs. The war in Little Haiti was sparked by my trigger. But the face paint of a bokor, a voodoo sorcerer, clarified some things.
The poltergeists hounding me were fairly powerful. A magical inclination could explain it. But there was a better reason they would push through the Murk and haunt our world. Haunt me. This half-baked bokor was poltergeisting my truck because—
"I get it now," I said out loud. "The spirits following me. They weren't sent by anyone. They sent themselves." I swallowed nervously, understanding the implications. "They're here because of me. I killed them. In another life, I killed every single one of them."
I banged my hand on the steering wheel, half pissed, half excited. More information. More momentum. "That's what's going on. Not one spirit but many. Random. I've been getting sidetracked by them, but they're a complete waste of time."
"You underestimate the usefulness of the dead's knowledge," said my companion.
"Maybe, but they won't lead me to what I want. They're just fallout from my crimes. Yet another in a long list of curses I need to live with."
The wraith watched me wordlessly as I drove.
I scoffed. "And you say I'm not a killer."
Chapter 19
I parked in Evan's driveway and shoved the Horn of Subjugation under the driver's seat. It was dark out but still early evening so I shouldn't be unwelcome.
Hell, who was I kidding? It had been made clear that it was inappropriate for me to show up unannounced, but it couldn't be helped. I had to talk to my friend.
I knocked lightly, breathing in the cool air. The door opened and my tongue caught in my throat at the sight of Emily.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, working at a mixing bowl.
"Sorry, Em. I know we didn't set anything up yet. I just need to chat with Evan."
She sighed. "He's putting John to bed. You can wait inside."
She scurried to the kitchen as I stepped in. The tile work in the foyer was immaculate. New construction, the whole house. I closed the door and admired the living room for a few moments before I realized I was standing by myself. I followed my ex-girlfriend to the kitchen.
"What about Fran?" I asked.
Emily dropped spoonfuls of biscuit dough on a cookie sheet while pasta boiled and fresh greens soaked in the sink. An honest-to-goodness home-cooked meal. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had one of those.
"She's sleeping over at a friend's house," she answered.
"Ah. That explains the uncorked bottle of wine."
She smiled. "Would you like a glass?"
"You didn't refill that bottle from a box, did you?"
She burst into laughter. "I forgot that," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "My father never forgave me for that."
Her smile was contagious. "To be fair, who opens a wine bottle and only drinks one glass?"
"It was an expensive bottle."
"All the more reason to enjoy it."
Emily backed down and nodded.
I leaned against the counter and allowed the silence to return. I thought being alone with her would be awkward, but it wasn't. The chemistry somehow picked up where it had left off, even if she wore another man's ring on her finger.
"Look at all this," I said, waving at her dinner preparation. "Didn't you always dream of traveling the world? Of living off the land?"
Wistful wrinkles creased around her eyes. "And what are you seeing now? The domesticated, settled down Emily?"
I shrugged.
Her expression softened for a moment as she was transported somewhere else. From the look in her eye, it was a faraway place. When she focused on me again, she said, "There's nothing wrong with this life, Cisco. I love my life. Where it's going. Besides, you always teased the hell out of me for being an idealist."
"I think you misremember things," was all I said.
"Maybe." She slid the biscuits in the oven and began working on the salad. "We did have some good times, didn't we? Remember when my father flew us to London for my birthday—"
I cut in and we finished the sentence together. "And banned me from the hotel room!" We couldn't stop laughing for a minute. "We scoured the city for a last-second hostel but couldn't find anything till the morning."
She nodded. "We were practically homeless for a night. We sure showed him."
"Your father hated me. He was such a drag."
Emily's cheeks slackened and she turned to the counter. I realized my misstep immediately. "Oh, Em, I'm sorry. I forgot he's no longer around."
"You heard?"
"Yeah. Evan mentioned it yesterday."
She waved it off. "It was years ago," she insisted. "It's nothing."
I nodded, feeling the mood in the room sober. "What happened to him?"
She set the salad aside and turned to me with crossed arms and a shy smile. "Can we not talk about it?" she asked, avoiding eye contact. "I was hoping to have a stress-free night tonight. Not that you're stressful, but seeing you opens the floodgates, you know? It's a lot."
"Sure, Emily. Whatever you want."
A timer went off and she attended to the pasta. I watched her thin frame silently, remembering what it was like to embrace it. But thinking that way didn't lead to good thoughts. With Fran away and the boy asleep, Evan and Emily had the house to themselves. Once I was out of their hair, they'd begin a pleasant date night.
I could too, I reminded myself. I had a date lined up, didn't I?
But here, in front of me, was the woman I loved. We'd been together four years. To my twenty-four-year-old self, that was an eternity. Now I was a decade older, but not much wiser. I felt the same, but everyone else had changed. Maybe it was time for me to change too. I just didn't know if I could love someone else.
Apparently sensing I was overthinking the moment, Emily broke the silence. "So what was it you wanted to talk to Evan about?"
Crap. A lot of things, really. I'd always striven to keep Emily out of business affairs. She wasn't an animist. She didn't deserve animist troubles. But having been so close to her, I'm sure I'd let a lot leak out.
Still, I wanted to give Evan the benefit of the doubt. Accusing him to his wife didn't sit well with me until I did it face to face.
"Actually," I said, "You might be able to help with something."
"Yeah?" Emily gave me her full attention. "What's that?"
"Well, it might be a long shot, but Evan told me he'd kept some of my personal effects. And some from my family too."
Her eyes softened. "Of course. I think there's a box in the garage."
"Do you know if you kept my grandmother's family album? The one with the genealogy tree."
She arched an eyebrow. "It's been a while but I could check. Why?"
"I dunno. I figured you might have wanted to give it to Fran."
Her face went icy. "Cisco, we decided a long time ago not to tell her about you. The history is too... horrible. It will scar her for life."
"Does me being alive again change things?"
She sucked her teeth. I was already sorry I'd gone down that road. There were a lot of good memories between Emily and me, but there were apparently a lot of landmines as well. It would take a while to defuse them.
"Never mind," I cut in. "That's not why I asked. I—"
Evan strolled into the kitchen. "Look at what the cat dragged in." He gave his wife a dramatic kiss (for my benefit, I was sure).
"Do people just start saying things like that when they become parents?" I joked.
"Okay, not my best material."
"He said he wanted to talk to you," chimed Emily.
Evan locked eyes with me. "What a coincidence. I was hoping to get you alone myself." He beckoned me to follow as he moved to the living room. I thought he was going for the couch, but he turned on me right before I sat down.
"I told you to stay away from my boss," he growled. "You went behind my back and wrecked City Hall."
I scratched the back of my head. "What makes you think I had anything to do with that?"
"There was a half-burned tank top in the office."
I grimaced. "I was gonna tell you. That's kind of why I'm here. Your boss, Commissioner Alvarez? His head of security's an elemental."
Evan adjusted the collar of his light-blue polo shirt. "What are you talking about?"
"Tyson Roderick. He's a volcanic elemental. Or was, anyway. He was the one who burned up the offices."
"Magic?"
"In a sense. He wasn't human. I had to put him down."
My friend's brow furrowed and he placed his hands on his hips. "Put him down."
I nodded.
"As in...?"
"Come on, Evan. I killed him."
"In City Hall?" he asked incredulously. "Last night?"
I took a deep breath, ready to explain what I was doing there.
"That's not possible, Cisco. I spoke with Tyson today."
Chapter 20
"You spoke to— What?" The volcanic elemental was still alive?
Evan steamrolled me like I hadn't said anything of note. "Tyson's concerned this was a targeted effort against Commissioner Alvarez. He's keeping him locked down for the weekend. He wants me to find the culprit responsible."
I paced to the fireplace shaking my head. What Evan was saying was impossible. Was he lying to me?
"Did you tell him about me?" I asked.
Evan scoffed. "What kind of friend do you think I am?" I opened my mouth. "Don't answer that." He glanced toward the kitchen and converged on me with a whisper. "Listen. Nobody knows that I know you're alive. I mean, there's a rough description of you out there. The bright red cowboy boots don't help. But nobody's on to the fact that Cisco Suarez is alive. And I've been keeping it that way."
"That's smart," I told him. "Tyson Roderick is a perfect example. You don't even know these people you're working with. Who or what they are. Feign ignorance and keep yourself protected."
"Oh. Now the black magic outlaw's telling me how to protect myself."
I sighed. It was only a matter of time. Evan and I had lots of landmines too. "I helped you out with that vampire breathing down your back, didn't I? He was thick with the commissioner. All I'm saying is, Tunji wasn't alone. You can't trust the people you work for. For all I know, Rudi Alvarez himself is a mage."
"Magic. My boss?" Evan snickered. "No way in hell. I would know. I'm around him too much."
"You'd tell me if you saw something weird, right?"
Evan's hands went to his hips again. "The only way I can protect myself is to be impartial, Cisco. That means upholding the law. Which is the opposite of what you're up to, I might add. You need to stop going after these guys. I work for them. If I run into you in the street and guns come out..."
I laughed. Not just in a light, flittery way, but with the kind of boisterous abandon usually reserved for overweight bikers. "No holds barred. The safety's off. That about right?" I positioned my face inches from his. "Well take your best shot, buddy, because it'll need to b
e the best one of your life to nick me."
"You're such an asshole, Cisco." My friend flexed his forearms menacingly. "I'm just telling you like it is. I'm a law enforcement officer. A commander of an elite political unit. You can't keep doing whatever you want and showing up at my doorstep for information."
I ignored his grandstanding. The last thing I wanted was a repeat fistfight with my best friend. "That isn't just a one-way street," I said. "You want information too? How about the investment accounts in the Cayman Islands?"
"You think I'm rich?" he asked.
"I know about the property investments. The land holdings. I found the commissioner's dirty stash. What surprised me was I found yours too."
Evan Cross frowned and shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, yes. We bought into some of that. Alvarez wanted to spread it around. Give back to his people."
I sneered. "You mean bring more people into the conspiracy so you'd keep his secrets."
"Jesus, Cisco. Everything's a conspiracy with you. I confirmed with Alvarez that everything was above board. There's nothing shady about those investments. The Caymans are a legal center of finance. All that bad stuff from the movies was cleaned up. Big companies do this type of thing all the time."
"You know what rotten apples do to fresh ones, buddy. Rudi Alvarez is involved with real estate fraud and police corruption along Biscayne Boulevard. Where do you think his dirty money is going? The entire thing is the very definition of a conspiracy. Even worse, from the outside it looks like he has a detective on his payroll."
My friend laughed. "It's not like that. Alvarez does have me on his payroll. Legitimately. It's a taxpayer allocation for a special assignment. Besides, the Cayman investments are through my wife, not me."
"That sounds like a legal dodge."
"It's not a dodge. It's not a conspiracy. The opportunity came through Alvarez's chief of staff. Her and Emily are friends. In this case, I'm just the guy she's married to."
I paused, remembering the Japanese woman I'd seen with the commissioner. "Kita Mariko?"
He blinked. "You know her?"
"I've seen her around. Emily knew her before you did?"
