hand of hate 01 - destiny blues

by Sharon Joss

  This was getting morbid. “Wait a minute. I don’t want her funeral to be some sort of pay-per-view circus event. My great-grandmother is not an exhibition.” What if they wanted to touch her, or tried to take a lock of hair or something as a souvenir? I shuddered. That would be too horrible. “I’ve changed my mind. Ix-nay on the viewing.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You heard me, no viewing.”

  “But it was Madam’s wish. Her obituary and visiting hours are already published in this morning’s paper. This was all arranged months ago, by Madam herself.”

  Rhys nodded, giving me a supportive squeeze.

  “Not to worry.” Saunders sounded confident. “Everything will be lovely and tasteful, I assure you. I will be right with you, every moment.”

  “Um.”

  “If you would be so good as to arrive a few minutes early, that would be best.” He hung up.

  I handed the phone back to Rhys and he replaced the receiver. Almost immediately, it rang again. This time I answered.

  The caller identified himself as Marcus Galvin, the criminal attorney Fontaigne had spoken of. He told me he’d agreed to represent Lance. On the phone at least, he sounded competent and easy to talk to. I liked him right away.

  “What about bail, Marcus? How soon can we get him out?”

  “This is a serial murder case. We’ll be going before the judge on Monday, but don’t get your hopes up about bail.”

  “But Lance had nothing to do with those murders. There can’t possibly be enough evidence to arrest him.”

  “I agree, the evidence at this point is all circumstantial. He was observed driving one of the victim’s cars, and when they searched his house, they found some old newspaper clippings and a diary. The diary talks about demons terrorizing Shore Haven.”

  “That car was a customer car, and the journal was mine. I left it at Lance’s house accidently. I’ll just tell them--.”

  Marcus cut me off. “Because of the possible demonic implication, the FBI’s counter-terrorism task force may claim jurisdiction. In a terrorism case, standard law and civil rights might not apply.”

  My lips trembled, as fear for my brother surged through me. “I can’t believe it. Are you telling me they could torture him?”

  “I doubt things would go that far. But if this is determined to be a case of psychic terrorism, Lance might never stand trial. He could spend the rest of his life in a prison cell on some remote island.”

  “How can this be happening? My brother had nothing to do with any of this! I have to talk to them.”

  “It’s going to be several days before we know anything,” Marcus assured me. “I don’t want you talking to anyone just yet, but there is another way to help your brother.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lance spoke of an obligation. A delivery which must be made today. To a special House in Rochester, if you get my drift. I believe he’s spoken to you of it. He seems to think the residents are all cards.”

  The image of Hector’s cruel smile flashed through my mind. “Of all the stupid things he would ask me, this is the worst.” I already knew what was coming. “Isn’t he in enough trouble already?”

  “My client tells me you are aware of the implications of this obligation and the consequences to his family if the conditions are not met. My client has given me a package, which will release him from any further entanglements with the establishment in question. I have no knowledge of the contents of this package, but my client tells me you do. Do you understand what I’m talking about?”

  Man oh man. “Yes. I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t want to do this. I’ve got too much going on already.”

  “I’ve been assured that the recipients will be happy to receive the package from you as long as delivery is completed by four o’clock this afternoon. My client asked me to tell you to be sure and get a signed receipt. And to please remember other people are depending on you to do this. You understand that I do not have any idea what your brother is asking you to do, but I do have his assurance that this action is not illegal. Regardless, I suggest you maintain a low profile for the next few days, until we determine jurisdiction of the case. If the authorities bring you in for questioning prematurely, things could get complicated. You could be detained for an extended period.”

  “We already figured that one out.”

  “I’m just asking you to deliver this package for my client and remain inconspicuous for the next few days. Can you do that?”

  What other choice did I have? Let Lance be water-boarded because I was too scared to face Hector again? It was my fault he’d gotten arrested in the first place. “Of course.”

  “He’s worried you might not follow through on this. He told me you disapprove of the other party. However, clearing this issue up for your brother will mitigate a motive for the situation he’s in at the moment, and do a lot to help appearances. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I sighed. “I said I’d do it. Please tell him how sorry I am about getting him arrested. About everything.”

  “You will deliver by the deadline?”

  I glanced at Rhys and he nodded.

  “Yes. Where’s the package?”

  “Over at my office in Brighton. I’ll be in court all day, but I’ll leave the package with our receptionist. You’ll need to show identification.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there.” I rinsed the cold coffee out my cup, as I told Rhys about Hector and the situation at the House of Cards.

  “Will you come with me? I don’t want to get beat up again.”

  “No problem.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Sneaking into my apartment wasn’t as easy as it had been the night before, but Rhys parked his motorcycle a block away and we crept through the neighbor’s yard, bypassing the street completely. I showered and changed in a flash, but every time I caught my reflection in a mirror, I couldn’t help myself from staring. I so didn’t recognize me anymore. My eyes were downright creepy. Adding eyeliner made things worse, not better. I washed off the make-up and decided to go with the dark sunglasses until I got some contact lenses. No way I’d ever pass for normal again.

  I rode behind Rhys on the custom pillion of his roaring 1952 Indian Chief motorcycle. I wrapped my hair around my hand and crouched down behind his solid back. The sun and wind and throb between my legs had me grinning by the time we arrived. Rhys parked on the street in front of the Tudor bungalow that housed the Law Offices of Fort, Fontaigne, and Galvin. I told Rhys I’d be right back, and ran up the steps to the entrance.

  I opened the front door and smacked right into Mayor Brunson. I grabbed my sunglasses hoping he hadn’t recognized me, but of course he had.

  “Hey Mattie, watch it willya? What are you doing here?” He eyed my clothes and glanced uneasily toward Rhys waiting on his bike.

  Words failed me as soon as I got a good look at Jim Brunson. A haze of midnight blue, green, and smoky black, with a glowing golden center surrounded his body. I knew instinctively I was seeing his aura. I’d never seen anything like it. A thread-like filament of glowing red neon encircled his torso, pulsing with his life force. I stood dazed, as the realization dawned on me. I could actually see his lifeline.

  Brunson edged away from me, and I snapped back to myself.

  “Sorry. I’m just here to pick up a package.” I ignored the mayor and moved past him to address the receptionist with my best smile. “You have a package here for Mattie Blackman?”

  The woman must have been in her fifties, and like the mayor, her aura and lifeline were also visible. I noted some interesting differences in the colors and qualities of the older woman’s aura. Her lifeline was shorter than Mayor Brunson’s, and in some places, the brightness grew pinched and disconcertingly fragile-looking.

  “I’ll need some identification.”

  After presenting my driver’s license, she handed me a padded manila envelope with my name written across the front in bold letters. I took t
he envelope, thanked her and wished her a happy day.

  Fifteen minutes later, Rhys and I pulled into the parking lot of House of Cards and parked the bike in one of the empty spots. The nondescript building had no windows, only a set of double glass doors. He asked me if I’ve ever been here before. I shook my head.

  We strolled inside like we owned the place. I debated removing my sunglasses in the darkened game parlor, but decided against it. I carried the envelope full of money clasped against my chest. Rhys took up a bodyguard stance behind my left shoulder and gave me a fierce grin.

  “Well well, look who’s here.” Hector appeared out of nowhere and leered into my personal space. His clammy aura washed over me; his lifeline pulsed with good health. I didn’t want him to touch me, but I stood my ground. Rhys stepped up beside me.

  My heart hammered. “I want to talk to the manager.”

  “She’s busy. You can talk to me, girlfriend.” Two other bouncer types approached, but he waved them off. They drifted away, keeping their eyes on us. They all wore shoes with leather tassels. Must be company dress code or something.

  “I’m here to make the payoff for Lance McNair.”

  Surprise flashed across his face for a moment, replaced by a sneer of total scorn.

  “What, is the big man too scared to come in person? Give it here little girl, I’ll be happy to take whatever you’ve got. You must be tougher than you look, princess. I don’t see a mark on you. I must be losing my touch.”

  He glanced at Rhys as if to size him up.

  Rhys tensed up beside me. I took a deep, calming breath. This guy meant nothing to me. The only thing I needed to do was to get Lance’s debt paid off. This guy was merely a distraction, nothing more. The casino area was full of people; Hector wouldn’t dare make a scene in front of the customers.

  “Just tell the manager I’m here, please. I believe I’m expected.”

  Hector spoke a few words of Italian into a walkie-talkie. After a moment, he got an acknowledgement. He flashed a sign at one of the other bouncers and the big man came over to man the door.

  “All right Miss Priss, follow me.”

  He led us across the main room, past blackjack tables, craps, and a carved, ornate bar. We passed through swinging doors into a well-lit kitchen, then down a dark hallway that dead-ended in an unmarked door. Hector gave a soft knock and Rhys and I followed him into a posh, well-lit office.

  The oriental carpet glowed red beneath a matching cream-colored suede sofa and chairs. Along one wall stood a massive aquarium, filled with a dozen google-eyed fantail goldfish. An attractive Asian woman faced us, seated behind a carved black desk. She wore an expensive-looking black suit that must have been custom tailored to fit her toothpick figure. Two beefy men patted us down for weapons while Hector made the introductions.

  “This is Miriam Wu, the manager of the House of Cards. This here is McNair’s girlfriend. She says she’s here to pay off his tab.”

  She ignored me; instead giving Rhys her attention over little half-moon glasses.

  “What are you doing here, Rhys? Miss me?” I glanced at Rhys but his face said nothing. I wondered how he knew her. This was no cavewoman Barbie. Her lipstick was bright crimson, and she sported a dragon-lady manicure.

  “Play nice, Mimsy. I’m just here for moral support.”

  I gave Rhys a look. Mimsy Wu?

  She closed the red leather book in front of her and addressed me without actually making eye contact. “I’m a busy woman, miss. Are you here to pay me the money Lance McNair owes me?”

  “Lance is my brother, and I want a signed receipt.” I was glad for the sense of assumed cool the shades gave me. I felt my bitch hormones kick in. “Mimsy. And your word that you’ll leave my brother and our family alone.”

  She nodded and pulled a book of receipts out of the drawer next to her. “Give me the money.” She held out her hand without looking at me.

  I don’t like you either. If there had been any other way to do this, I would have walked out.

  I started to hand over the envelope when the fresh reek of licorice hit me, and I froze. It took me less than half a second to find the named djemon squatting invisibly on the oriental behind her chair.

  “Well hello.” I leaned over for a closer inspection.

  The creature was like Blix and Larry; named, but not yet commanded, and thus not visible on the physical plane. The smell of this djemon, although still of anise, had a different quality than my guys. This one wasn’t mine. It wasn’t looking at me; its attention was focused exclusively on its master. She knew it was there, all right, but nobody else did. Except me.

  “Looks like you’ve got a named djemon here, Mimsy.” I walked around the side of the desk to get a better look and the two bodyguards started toward me. I pointed at her. “Unless you want trouble, lose the palookas.” I squatted next to the demon, demonstrating to her I knew exactly what and where it was.

  She paled and dropped the receipt book. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Give me the money.”

  I leaned over and put my face close to hers, lowered my sunglasses and gave her the full benefit of my new look. She backed up a little and dismissed the bodyguards. They left without a word.

  She waited until the door closed behind them before she snapped at Rhys. “Who the hell is this?”

  Rhys grinned hugely; I could tell he was enjoying himself. “This is Lance McNair’s sister, Mattie Blackman. You might know her better as the new Hand of Fate.”

  Mimsy squealed and did a double take. “Oh my god. I can’t believe it.” She jumped up and hugged me. “You’re Madame Coumlie’s heir?”

  I stared at Rhys, hoping for an explanation but he shrugged me off, grinning.

  “Why didn’t you say so? Why are you paying off this note?”

  “I’m not. I’m just delivering it.” I handed her the cash. “This is Lance’s money. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t let him in here anymore.” I forced myself to say it aloud. “He’s a compulsive gambler.”

  “Yes, I know. He’s got himself mixed up that skank Andrea Gregson. I don’t know how she managed it, but she’s got her claws in deep.” She scribbled out a receipt and signed it and held it out to me. “Here, take it. I don’t want your money. Lance’s debt is paid in full.”

  Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I took the receipt before she changed her mind. It acknowledged receipt of sixty-three thousand dollars. It was signed by one Miriam Mingmei Wu. I wondered if she was related to the same Mingmei my great-grandmother had told me about. Had to be.

  “Thanks.” I tried to explain. “He’s my brother. He raised me.”

  She sighed. “I know what it’s like to have a brother in trouble. You want to help them, but they have to fight their own battles.” She reached out and took my hand with her manicured fingers. She had bones like a bird. “I truly am so sorry for your loss. Madame Coumlie has always been a true friend to my family; she was a wonderful woman.”

  I accepted her condolences and answered her questions about the funeral. She assured me she would be attending the visitation and gave me her card with her personal contact information.

  “What about that guy?” I nodded to the creature squatting at her feet. A miniature pterodactyl, if I had to guess.

  “I talked to Madame last week, and she told me she would take care of it.” Mimsy was closer to my age than I’d first guessed. “I do apologize for my poor manners earlier. Will you be taking over for her?”

  In spite of everything, I sort of liked her. I mumbled something about taking care of her little djemon problem as soon as things settled down, although I didn’t have a clue what I had just promised. I also made a mental note to stop making promises like that in the future. She escorted us out to the parking lot, assuring me that everything between Lance and the House of Cards was now copacetic. She even promised to permanently eighty-six Lance from the premises.

  I climbed back on the bike behind Rhys and waited for h
im to start the engine, but he didn’t.

  “What?”

  “Mimsy is the biggest gossip in town. By tomorrow, everyone is going to know you’re the new Hand.”

  “Do I need to be concerned?”

  “Madame Coumlie had a lot of clients, Mattie. Shore Haven is a well-known sanctuary for the supernatural community, and you’ve just been elected president of the club. Your life is about to change.”

  “Don’t you worry about me; I can handle myself just fine. How do you know Mimsy?”

  He laughed and kick-started the engine. Any further conversation on that topic was going to be impossible. We cruised up the street and I put my head down and held on tight. I wondered what kind of club he meant. When Mimsy had escorted us outside, I’d noticed every single person in the card room, including Hector and the doormen had an aura and lifeline. Everyone, that is, except Mimsy, Rhys, and me.

  CHAPTER 29

  Rhys dropped me off at Madame Coumlie’s house to search through the journals one last time before we headed out to the cave again. He’d arranged for the French translator to come over to his place that afternoon anyway, so I told Rhys I would meet him at Mystic Properties in two hours. Besides, I had an idea I wanted to try. He took off on the bike and I let myself in with the key he gave me.

  For all its gaudy emptiness, the old Queen Anne house welcomed me. I stashed the envelope full of Lance’s money under the sink and brewed a pot of coffee. I would probably need that money to pay the lawyer. I heard an old clock ticking somewhere upstairs. With the curtains closed all day, the house was a peaceful oasis, but I had work to do. I took my coffee and a few journals into the living room. I settled myself in against a needlepoint pillow on the faded pink couch.