by Domino Finn
I put my hands on my hips and turned away. Milena shook her head. "Smooth move, Cisco."
I avoided eye contact with the moping couple. I pitched my voice, hopeful. "The truth will set them free?"
She was not amused.
I waved it off. "We don't have time for this. Anyway, this whole thing is simpler than we thought. There are lots of players but we don't need to handle them all."
Evan and Emily didn't stir but at least Milena was listening. I continued.
"We can forget about Connor for now. We don't need to worry about the Society. What matters right now is who has Fran. That's Petrovic's card. The same guy who beat up Hernan. Our primary concern is the Vucari."
Milena chewed her lip. "Vucari... Where have I heard that before?"
I looked at my boot. "It was, uh, what Darko said before he died."
Milena's eyes narrowed.
"Listen," I said. "I know this isn't your fight."
"Are you kidding me right now?" she asked.
"Okay, maybe I could've phrased that better. All I mean is that Connor doesn't have his hooks into you."
She jutted her chin out. "He came after my family too, Cisco. And just in case you haven't noticed, I've got your back."
I stopped arguing and smiled. "Yes," I said, "you always do."
"Then I'm in."
I beamed. Milena rested her palm on my shoulder and rubbed lightly.
"But that's not where I remember the word Vucari from," she noted, pulling out the phone she'd swiped from the Russian strip club owner. She scrolled through the contacts and showed me the entry.
"Vucari."
Chapter 37
Evan snapped out of his funk. "You have a contact number?"
Milena tossed the phone to his lap.
"Vucari," he read. "These are Connor's people?"
I crossed my arms. "They're a fringe group of Serbians who do odd jobs for the Russian mob. Right now, both of them have contracts with Connor. To be honest, I still don't know how the plain-old Russians fit in, but the Vucari are the ones actively hunting me. And the Horn."
Evan looked puzzled.
"It's a long story," I said. "Emily can catch you up sometime. It's an artifact they want that I don't have."
My friend turned to his wife. He almost said something. Then he rubbed his eyes and shook it off. "I think," he said, gently pushing Emily away, "everyone needs to get their heads out of their asses. Including me." He stood and gave his wife a sideways glance. "We can settle accounts later. For now we have a lead. We need to move fast."
I set my jaw. "Damn straight."
"I know a guy in Felony Apprehension who can get me a location on this."
"Except we don't know who's on the other end of that line," said Milena.
"It's a lead," he shot back.
"True," I interjected, "but these guys aren't human. They're super strong and grow canine heads and summon spectral wolves. Like I said, it's not a job for your friendly neighborhood police."
Evan made a face like I was speaking Greek. "But guns should hurt them?"
"Probably. They shrug off damage pretty well, but they can be pounded down."
"Good enough for me," he concluded. "I can set up a dummy call if I need to. But we can get a fix from the towers without that." He stormed out of the room with a new mission.
I was glad to set him on something, but I had a feeling spellcraft was a better bet. "Emily?"
She shook away her destitute gaze. "Yes?"
"Your magic?" I reminded, shutting the door again.
"I tried." She presented the crystal ball. "Those signatures are too faint. I can get a flickering of activity in the house, but anything further gets washed out by the noise of the city."
"Washed out?"
She inhaled sharply and focused her thoughts. "Yes. The Intrinsics shift all around us. You know that. Miami's too densely populated to fixate on a single fading trail. There's too much light."
"Too much light you say?" I licked my lips and cracked my knuckles. "Emily, you've come to the right man. What if I could filter that light? Apply a layer of darkness to your scrying?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Seriously. Right now it's like you're stargazing in the middle of the day. Let me make it night."
She folded her lip under her teeth. "That might actually work."
We got to it. Emily explained her process with the crystal. It wasn't infused with magic itself, but it served as a lens for her to bend light through. She molded it into a reflection of the world.
At least, she did her best to. Varying degrees of talents can execute all sorts of tricks with crystal. Many look for echoes of the past or visions of the future. It's easiest to focus on people or objects you're close to. Even then, it's sometimes a crapshoot as to which perspective will be reflected back at you.
Emily had been trained by some bad people, but she was essentially a white witch. Though her power wasn't finely honed yet, it had impressive potential. I believed she could find Fran. She pulled out her crystal ball again.
"No," I said. "Let's start at the source."
Emily swallowed as if afraid to comply. But she nodded and led us into my daughter's room.
I felt extreme warmth and sadness at the same time. Fran wasn't yet into the stage where music posters plastered her walls. She hadn't given up her stuffed animal collection either, but they'd graduated from the bed to a place on the bookshelf. I was happy to see fantasy novels beside them. Taking after her old man. The fairy doll I'd given her was on the shelf too. It was the only pink thing in the entire room, but she'd kept it for some reason. In some ways, this glimpse of her personal sanctuary was the closest I'd been to seeing who Fran really was. But the room was just a place. It was empty.
Emily placed the crystal on a square of black felt in the center of the bed. Her fingers cupped the air on either side of it. Light danced between her palms. This wasn't like Simon's lightning—crackling and vulgar. This was subtle. An aura of feeling more than a special effect. The swirls of color within the glass orb, however, were most definitely not subtle.
Staring into the crystal was like drifting outside our bodies, looking down on ourselves. Emily isolated the glow around us. Keyed in on it. We wafted higher, bringing multiple rooms of the house into view without the roof obstructing us. The faint trail led through the hall and out an upstairs window.
But Emily was right. Once exposed to the madness of the city, the trail washed out. Dizzying streaks rushed past us. Blinding coronas consumed the distant skyline. It became a struggle to make anything out, much less concentrate.
I reminded myself that this wasn't the world, just a reflection within glass. I empowered the darkness. Like a virus, it multiplied, blackening the edges of the vision and crowding out the glare. Emily pushed back, teasing Fran's footprint into the foreground.
It was back and forth like that a bit, one long pointless argument, except Emily managed to follow the path north.
I bit down as we followed, nurturing the darkness as she energized the light. Confirming my suspicions, the trail had a westerly drift. If the Vucari had meant to escape the city, they would've headed to the highway or to the coast. Instead the path turned sharply inland.
And then we lost it. Neither Emily nor I could make out anything else, and the vision abruptly popped out.
I blinked away the magic. Evan was with us now, peering over my shoulder with Milena. Emily jumped when she saw her husband there. He considered her carefully, like a stranger.
"It's not much," I said. "We couldn't pinpoint a destination or current location."
"It's more than I had before," said Emily.
Evan held up the Russian cell. "The phone's a bust. Whoever used that number was last pinged at towers around the Port of Miami several hours ago, but their phone's been off since."
"The Vucari ambushed me over there. Maybe the phone dropped in the drink or they went dark or something. But what if they're still there?"
Ev
an didn't buy it. "The Port is too secure. It wouldn't make sense to stage anything there."
"That's 'cause you weren't there several hours ago. Trust me. They could bypass any security with spellcraft."
"But you're talking a whole boat," he said. "Could they hide that? Trust me, Cisco. Especially with that battle earlier, there's no way they're going back there. Besides, didn't Emily's magic just prove they didn't?"
He was right about one thing, at least. The Port of Miami had been a trap. "Connor let slide there was a real meeting somewhere," I said. "It's possible the Vucari are holing up with him at the real location. I heard a rumor about casino boats. But if not the Port, if not the coast..."
"The Miami River," concluded Evan. "The river mouth is wide enough and deep enough for just about any vessel. If you go past the hotels and yacht clubs, there're all kinds of sketchy marinas out there."
"The pictures," exclaimed Milena. She snatched the Russian phone from Evan's hand and showed him the photographs of dockside properties. They were sprinkled among loads of other unassuming pictures. We'd figured them for Russian real estate interests, but maybe the mob was scouting locations.
Evan swiped through the photos. "I don't know where this is but it's the River," he agreed.
"Okay," I said, coming around. "That has to be where they are."
They turned to me, beaming.
"But," I cautioned, "this means we're not just dealing with the Vucari. This all but confirms Connor will be there too. And if any of my intel today has been true, the Russian mob is in on this boat deal with the Agua Fuego cartel."
Everybody huddled together in a circle.
"We got that phone from Pop Stars," I explained. "Which is Russian territory, not Vucari. The Sons of Van were hired for a single purpose: to catch and kill me. But they answer to the jinn. If the Vucari are taking Fran to him, then maybe everybody's in the same place at the same time."
Evan let out a low whistle as we all pondered the logistics. "We need to get boots on the ground," he said. "I'll mobilize the DROP team. Finding the shipyard that matches those photos shouldn't be too difficult. And my team's supposed to log a training exercise this month anyway."
"Training," I said. "That sounds awfully close to an off-the-books operation."
Evan glared at me. He didn't say anything. I didn't push the matter.
"I'm going out there," Emily said.
"Not on your life," said Evan.
She squared her shoulders. "This is my fault and I'm fixing it."
"It's too dangerous."
"First of all," she countered, "it's too dangerous for you. I'm an animist. You know that now. My spellcraft will come in handy. Even if it's just to get a fix on Fran. Second, I'm the only person here who knows Connor Hatch well. I was never as tight as the rest of the Covey members, but it counts for something. Besides, I am NOT sitting at home while someone has our daughter."
I cocked my head. "I probably wouldn't argue with her on that point, buddy."
Evan winced. "You'll ride in my squad car then. Cisco?"
"You do your thing. I took a taxi here so I'm gonna hitch a ride with Milena."
She grinned. "Hopefully we don't get ambushed by poltergeists this time."
They furrowed their brows.
"Long story," I told them again. "Let me know as soon as you get word of where she is. My phone's busted but Milena's works."
"I'm not waiting," said Evan. "If I have a lead on Fran I'm taking it."
I glowered at him. It wasn't ideal, but I knew just as well as he did that every second counted. "Just give me the heads up as soon as possible. If your guys go in without me, it'll get ugly." I made for the door. "Hell, it'll get ugly anyway."
"And where will you be?" asked Emily.
I grinned. "I gotta see a girl about a Horn."
Chapter 38
"The airport?" asked Milena as she drove.
I leaned back as far as I could in her cramped hatchback. "Sure. It's close to the marinas. As soon as Evan locates our target, we'll be minutes away."
"Okay," she conceded. "But why the airport?"
"What would you do if you had three giant bags of money, lived in LA, and found yourself in the middle of a drug cartel dispute?"
She turned to me. "Get the hell out of Miami?"
"Give the nice lady a prize," I announced.
She remained skeptical. "It's a stretch, Cisco. MIA is huge. You need to be at the right terminal at the right time. How are you supposed to figure that out?"
I brought up Shyla's phone. "Let's see what Shyla's online check-in confirmation says." The thief had deleted the GPS coordinates, but she'd forgotten to delete her email. I was still logged into her inbox. We had her exact flight and boarding time.
Milena slapped my shoulder playfully. "Here I thought you were Sherlocking the hell out of this problem. Turns out it's all smoke and mirrors."
I smiled. "For my next trick, I'll help a Nigerian prince smuggle his riches out of Africa."
She arched an eyebrow my way.
I shrugged. "She doesn't have a good spam filter."
Milena rolled her eyes. "Aren't you glossing over the fact that this demonic cat burglar nearly killed you?"
"Eh. It's not a perfect plan. But she seemed to have a code of honor. She felt bad about leaving me in the hands of the Society psychopaths."
"Wow. Sounds like an upstanding citizen."
I ignored her. My lifestyle involved lots of risk. I saw this as one of my less dangerous gambles.
The departure intake was clear. Milena dropped me off and turned into a short-term parking lot. I sprinted to the terminal. The flight wasn't departing for another two hours but I needed to be early to catch her before she went through security.
With my daughter in immediate danger, waiting really sucked. I leaned against the back wall watching the self-check-in terminals and the counter. Shyla had to come through here. As the minutes ticked by, I wondered if she already had. Milena joined me and we made each other even more antsy.
Then a woman in a leather jacket casually strolled into the check-in line. She put tags on two brand-new suitcases wrapped in clear plastic. I waited as she finished in the line. Then she wheeled the luggage to a separate attendant who checked them. I approached her from behind and caught her just as she turned.
"Boo," I said.
Shyla nearly recoiled out of her boots. We were surrounded by a sea of people. No one paid us any mind, but we'd have more witnesses than we could count if we didn't play nice. Shyla relaxed her outward appearance. Her eyes busily scanned the terminal, falling on Milena's approach. Once it was clear she wasn't surrounded, Shyla spoke calmly.
"Got away from those bastards, did you?"
I nodded. "You basically got paid for nothing."
Shyla crossed her arms. "You have to admit, it kinda worked out for both of us."
"I wouldn't be here if it did," I said firmly.
She gulped nervously and nodded. "The money."
I snorted. "Where is it, by the way? Those suitcases aren't big enough to hold your score."
"Trade secret," she answered. "I fly first class. The money has alternate accommodations."
Lucky for me, too. Those accommodations had delayed Shyla's arrival at the airport, allowing me to catch her.
"I need the Horn back," I said plainly. "I know you can still track it."
She worked her lips for a moment as she considered Milena, who only glared back. Then Shyla relaxed. "How much is it worth to you?"
"Oh, I don't know," I said, annoyed. "How about two giant garbage bags full of money? Unlike the Society, I expect value for my cash."
She chuckled, half relieved. "Fair enough." The summoner pulled out a duplicate phone and typed in the location. Her old phone buzzed in my pocket. I checked the tracking program and Coordinate Charlie was once again live.
"I'm on the next flight out of this humid paradise," she said. "I'm putting Miami on my no-go list. You're fre
e to chase down that artifact all you want."
"You know you gotta take off those giant boots to go through security, right?"
She smiled and studied me a moment. Shyla took a slow step backward. "If not money, what are you doing all this for, Cisco Suarez?"
I shrugged. "Everything's not about a new pair of shoes, Shyla."
"You know me so well already." Her eyes flitted down my body. "But that maxim's coming from a guy wearing cowboy boots. Seriously, what are you getting out of this?"
"It's simple," I answered. "I have to protect me and mine."
Her eyebrow twitched approvingly. "If that's what makes you happy. It was nice to meet you, Cisco." Shyla turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Milena groaned. "You didn't tell me she was pretty."
I grinned and checked the phone again. Chevalier's signal was active. Close, even. But there was a problem. I knew the location. Intimately. And if we didn't get to him fast, he was gonna blow my whole plan sky high.
Chapter 39
We pulled into the empty parking lot of Saint Martin's Cemetery. Empty because it was midnight, and nobody but necromancers and grave robbers have any business around cemeteries at midnight. This one, specifically, was special to me. It was where I was supposed to be buried.
For a decade, I hadn't rested in peace as everybody else had thought, but that hadn't meant my six-feet-deep home was unoccupied. The Spaniard had been there, buried with the Horn of Subjugation, lying in wait for me to find him. My best guess was that Chevalier wanted to put him back where he couldn't hurt anyone.
"Check it out," said Milena, pointing to the grassy area outside the distant gate. Chevalier's black van was parked behind some brush, invisible from the street.
"You might wanna stay out of their way," I said.
She gave me a chiding look and reached for the glove compartment. Before I could tell her not to bother with the stun gun, she produced a pistol.
"Is that—" I started.
"Okay, so I stole this from the van that you stole from the drug dealers."
