Eun opened her eyes again, and her lips curled, revealing her teeth. “Fight.”
Valeria managed a smile. “Sleep”
Eun sighed, and Valeria rose and exited the room. Closing the door behind her, she shivered. The warehouse was cold, the expense of heating it too great, so they turned on space heaters in the rooms they used and wore their coats everywhere else. She carried handfuls of tissues in her cargo pants to blow her nose. In the dining area, she served herself stew from a pot and joined Michael and Henri at the picnic table.
“Where’s Angelo?” she said, tearing a piece of Italian bread from a loaf.
“Staking out the funeral home,” Michael said. “An old friend of ours showed up at their doorstep: Elias Michalakis.”
“We killed him.”
“Apparently not.”
Valeria suppressed her astonishment. From the back window of a fleeing van, she had seen the explosion which tore the werewolf cell asunder. “Have you made a decision about the funeral home yet?”
“Let’s see how the day goes. Circumstances will dictate our next move.”
“I think we should take a day to rest.”
Michael sipped his juice. “We need to keep hitting the beasts hard. A different method each night to throw them off guard. Now that Michalakis has joined them, they have intel on our ways.”
“If the bitch doesn’t talk and we hit the Dominis tonight, we won’t have a target tomorrow. The effect will be the same.”
“Except that every day we remain here increases the chances of the authorities storming in. We need to take advantage of every night.”
Valeria dipped her bread in the stew. “Maybe we should relocate.”
“No. We’re safer here than moving.”
“We’re only four strong now.”
“We were four strong last night, and it took only two of us to kill two of them and three police.”
“We need reinforcements.”
Michael’s expression turned to one of annoyance. “I contacted Tudoro. He arrives tomorrow. Maybe he’ll have our apprentices with him; maybe he won’t. I’d like to have one more victory to report when he gets here.”
Valeria felt a sense of relief. The priest Tudoro was a reassuring presence in her life. He would assess the situation and advise Michael as to the best path to follow.
“How’s Eun?” Henri said.
“She’s in pain but refusing morphine. She needs real medical attention. Surely Father Tudoro can put us in touch with—”
“Tudoro will make a decision about Eun when he gets here,” Michael said in an even tone.
“I think we should all leave. Separate, then reunite at another target zone and take the beasts there by surprise, just as we did here. That will give us time to make sure our apprentices are ready for combat.” Valeria glanced at Henri, who sat watching the confrontation in silence.
“Your job is to follow my orders. If you can’t do that, return to Rome. You don’t have an apprentice.”
“You know I’m committed to our mission. I just think the casualties we’ve suffered have been too great.”
“I disagree. We’ve only—”
A shrill scream interrupted them.
Henri rose first. “Eun!”
They ran out of the dining room, their boots stomping the wooden floor. Valeria brought up the rear as Henri threw open the door to the medical room and they charged inside. Valeria froze in her steps.
Eun stood at the sink across the room from her bed, the bandage that had been wrapped around her head strewn over her shoulders. She stood with her back to them, and Valeria saw her disfigured countenance reflected in the mirror. Eun whipped her head around, facing them with her grisly features. Valeria had sewn several flaps of Eun’s tattered face together, fashioning a patchwork broken up by sections of exposed and glistening gristle. Eun resembled an autopsied cadaver that had been reassembled by someone with no knowledge of the human face. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she yowled, her eyes wide with horror and rage.
“Get her back in bed,” Valeria said.
Michael and Henri charged at their petite companion, who flailed at them.
“No!” Eun said, her voice a screech.
The men wrapped their arms around her and thrust her onto the bed. Valeria jerked a drawer open, withdrew a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid, and filled the syringe.
Eun threw her head from side to side, like a woman possessed. “No! No! No!”
“Hold her still,” Valeria said.
Michael locked Eun’s right arm into a rigid position, and Valeria inserted the needle of the syringe into a vein and pressed the plunger, injecting the sedative.
“Noooo …” Eun turned quiet and her body relaxed. Her breasts rose and fell, and the rest of her body grew still. Staring at the ceiling, she closed her eyes.
Willy and Karol sat in the front seat of the Jeep Cherokee Willy had signed out from the motor pool. Across the street and one quarter of the way down the block, two men stood like sentries outside the Domini Funeral Home. Willy recorded them on a HD camera while Karol took still photos beside him.
“There’s two more,” Willy said.
“Where?”
“On this side of the street at each end of the block.”
Karol looked behind them, then straight ahead. “What kind of funeral home needs security?”
“One run by werewolves worried about werewolf hunters?”
“I feel like the only nonalcoholic at an AA meeting. You people could have started a support group, you know; you didn’t have to form a covert task force to work through your delusions.”
“We’ll see who’s deluded when the fur starts to fly. So far, this war has been one-sided. What happens when the persecuted strike back? We may not be a secret for long.”
“Class L humans.” Karol clucked her tongue.
“According to what Tony said, they should be Class H wolves.”
“How long are we going to sit here? The next full moon isn’t for two more weeks.”
“You’ve been spoiled driving around with me. Murder police don’t normally do stakeouts. Make yourself comfortable.”
“They’re going to make us. People don’t usually leave their cars running when they park them.”
Willy shut off’ the engine. “Does that make you happy? Now we’ll freeze to death.”
“Those four guys are handling it okay, and they’re outside.”
“They’re werewolves, though. They probably have fur on the inside of their bodies keeping them warm.”
“Look at them. Do you really think they could be werewolves?”
“Sitting here looking at them in the daylight? No way. Ask me again when the sun goes down.”
“Think about it: If creatures like Tony described have existed since before we did, how come there’s never been any proof?”
“Who says there hasn’t been any? Torquemada executed hundreds of people as werewolves during the Inquisition.”
“He also executed people for being witches.”
“And Wiccans exist.”
“Wicca’s a religion. The people who practice it don’t fly around on broomsticks. What frightens me is that the brass and the feds are buying into this.”
“They aren’t buying anything—they’re the ones doing the selling. But that doesn’t mean they believe in what we’re doing. It just means they’re covering their asses. Get used to it, and don’t trust any bosses on this except Tony.”
“You sure have a lot of faith in him considering he spent the last two years supervising dogs because of how he handled his last big case.”
“The fact that he kept his job after everything that happened says a lot.”
“I’m ready for some coffee. How about you?”
“It will only make us have to take a leak sooner, but what the hell.”
“Back in a flash.”
Watching Karol get out of the SUV and head up the sidewalk toward a coffee sho
p, Willy decided she looked good in jeans.
When Mace reentered the base camp, he saw Shelly and Norton at their desks, working their cell phones and gazing at their monitors. A few feet away, a pair of legs dressed in navy-blue work slacks protruded from beneath a desk. In the conference room, a man with slicked hair attached a cable to the computer. Landry and Candice had left their office door open, and Landry rose from his desk with a coffee mug in hand.
“I see the place is becoming functional,” Mace said.
“There’s no place like home. The computers are wired to a secure server, but we don’t have landlines yet. The TVs are in, but we can’t get cable until tomorrow. How did it go with Graham?”
“We have the full support of the COD, unless anything goes wrong. Any developments here?”
Landry nodded at Shelly and Norton. “They’re going to be busy for a while.” He made a conspiratorial wink. “I dug up the Evidence Control records on the Blade of Salvation. Both halves were sent to a Monsignor Delacarte at the Vatican. I tried reaching him, but apparently he’s in the hospital. I spoke to his secretary, who claimed to know nothing about the sword. He said he’d look into it, but since Rome is six hours ahead of us, I doubt we’ll hear anything before tomorrow.”
“Good work.”
Candice joined them. “I didn’t get anywhere with the alarm company, so I’m going to head over there and see what I can rustle up in person.”
Mace watched Candice put on her coat and leave. “Anything from Willy and Karol?”
Landry took out his cell phone, pressed the screen a couple of times, and showed Mace an image of a man standing outside a building. “There’s a couple of guys standing watch outside the funeral home. Otherwise, no activity.”
Mace’s phone vibrated, and he checked its display: Sing Sing Correctional Facility. Rodrigo Gomez. “Excuse me,” he said to Landry, then entered his office and closed the door. The room felt alien to him. “This is Mace,” he said into the phone as he sat in a worn office chair.
“Captain, this is Warden Strand at Sing Sing.”
Mace remembered the warden, a tall, thin man with a negligible mustache. “What can I do for you?” He opened the pencil drawer of his desk and found nothing but nicotine gum wrappers.
“I’m calling you regarding Rodrigo Gomez.”
“I gathered. Has something happened?”
“Nothing serious. You were his arresting officer, so I wanted to make you aware that he’s doing a live television interview from here tomorrow night.”
Mace closed the drawer. “Oh? With what network?”
“Manhattan Minute News. Your wife is doing the interview.”
Mace sat straight. “What kind of security will you have?”
“I assure you your wife will be perfectly safe.”
“I assume I can be there?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you for calling, Warden. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I’m not crazy about that passageway,” Willy said, noting the narrow pedestrian tunnel that descended below the funeral home.
“You see them all over Brooklyn,” Karol said. “They usually lead into courtyards.”
Willy stretched his arms and yawned.
“It’s only 5:30, and it’s already dark outside,” Karol said.
“It’ll be Christmas before we know it. I wonder what you’ll get me.”
“Don’t get personal on the city’s dime.”
“I hear you. During company hours, you want things between us to be the way they were before last night, right?”
“Copy that, Lieutenant.”
“In that case, when are you going to sleep with me?”
She smiled. “When pigs fly, hell freezes over, and I see a living, breathing werewolf.”
“Mira, I hope none of those things happen. I need to stretch my legs. You ready for dinner?”
“There’s not much else to do but eat.”
“I can think of a few things, but we’d have to abandon our post to do them. What do you want?”
Surprise me.
“Okay. I’m going to circle around the block and check out the other side.”
“Try not to get lost.”
“I’ll leave a trail of bread crumbs just in case.” Willy started the SUV’s engine, giving Karol a blast of heat. “I want that heat on when I get back.” Climbing outside, he inhaled cold air. Careful to avoid looking in the direction of the funeral home so as not to make eye contact with the guards outside, he walked in the opposite direction, waited for the light to change, and crossed Thirty-third Street, merging with the rush hour pedestrian traffic.
As Willy rounded the next corner, he noticed a man with a red ski jacket leaning against a bank wall with both hands stuffed into his pockets. The man stood perhaps twenty feet from the mouth of an alley that Willy estimated ran into the passageway on the other side of the block. Staring straight ahead, Willy registered a woman with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail standing an equal distance away from the alley ahead. Like the man, she seemed to stare off into space. Willy knew better.
Reaching the alley, he stooped on one knee, untied the shoelace of his sneaker, and tied it again. From the corner of one eye, he glanced down the alley and saw a number of exits from the buildings on either side illuminated by lights above them, as well as green metal Dumpsters. A graffiti-covered brick wall divided the opposite side of the block from this one. Standing, he resumed his walk, cutting across the street at a diagonal angle between passing cars so as not to pass the female.
Who knows what they smell, he thought. He entered a bodega and joined a line at the food counter. Glancing out the front window, he took out his cell phone. Before he could call Karol, the phone issued a salsa-flavored ring tone, and he saw his partner was calling him. He pressed the phone against his ear. “I was just about to call you.”
“You’re missing the changing of the guard.”
“Really?” He lowered his voice. “There are two more lawn fairies on this side of the tracks.”
“Hurry home, honey.”
“I miss you, mama.” He closed down his cell phone.
When Willy exited the bodega with his bag of food, his gaze passed over the woman standing watch across the street. She stared straight at him. Pretending not to notice her intense glare, he looked away and walked in the opposite direction.
Reaching Second Avenue, Willy crossed the street and headed back toward Twenty-eighth Street. He crossed that and made his way toward the SUV, noting the two new sentries stationed on opposite sides of the funeral home. Seeing Karol seated behind the vehicle’s steering wheel, he climbed into the passenger side. “Where did the other guys go?”
“Two were replaced. Two just left.”
“One of the two on the other side was a female.”
“Does that make her a bitch?”
“She definitely noticed me.”
“That makes her a slut.”
“That little recessed passageway leads into a courtyard divided by a brick wall maybe eight feet tall. The alley on the far side is wide enough for a garbage truck, and there was a metal gate as wide as a regular door in the wall. The Dominis must take their garbage through that gate to one of the Dumpsters in the alley. The sentries who just left could have circled that way and gone in through the gate.”
“Too bad our computers weren’t online before we came out here. We could have come armed with a little intel.”
Willy took two clear plastic containers filled with food out of the paper bag.
“What’s that?” Karol said.
“Arroz con habichuelasy pollo”
“Chicken and rice and beans?”
“You know your Spanish food. That’s good. Maybe you can cook it sometime.”
“Now that you’re back, do you want to call Landry, or should I?”
Willy handed her the containers and plastic forks. “Let me do it. Keep it lieutenant to lieu
tenant and all.”
Mace saw Cheryl waiting at the bar as soon as he entered Maz Mescal on East Eighty-sixth Street. Before moving to Brooklyn, they had frequented the Mexican restaurant often when they had lived in the neighborhood. She sat on a stool with her legs crossed, sipping a margarita.
When she saw him, she sucked on her stirrer. “Why, Captain Mace, whatever brings you here?”
“The tortillas,” Mace said. “Shall we?”
Cheryl slid off the stool, and Mace took her arm and guided her to the dining area, where a host seated them.
“It’s been a long time since we ate here,” Cheryl said.
“It’s been a long time since we ate anywhere alone.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Maybe I’m feeling nostalgic. Or maybe what I have to say couldn’t wait until I got home.”
Her expression cooled. “You heard.”
“Warden Strand thought it appropriate to notify me.”
“Since you were the arresting officer.”
He smiled. “You’re good at this.”
“I’ll be perfectly safe, my love.”
“I know you will be, because you’re not doing that interview.”
A server set a bowl of tortilla chips and some sauces before them. “May I get you a drink, sir?”
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
“Very good.” The man walked away.
“This really isn’t the time for you to start behaving like a Neanderthal,” Cheryl said.
“Not a Neanderthal,” Mace said. “Just a concerned husband and father.”
“You never interfered with my career before.”
“You never tried to interview a serial killer who had an ax to grind against me before. At least, not as far as I know.”
Cheryl leaned forward. “I never had the opportunity before—and it’s a rare and exceptional opportunity. I’ve pretty much been filing sound bites since I started this job last year. This is the first chance I’ve had to make a significant splash, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not getting any younger.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, Gomez murdered five women.”
The Frenzy War Page 17
