“Your fee?”
“Nominal. It’s hardly any effort on my part and I’m in between jobs. And, I must admit, I’ve heard of you.”
“Is that so?” Donald asked, going slightly tense.
Veruca patted his leg, recognizing the signs of his worry for her. Benedict caught it too, lifting his hands in a gesture of no-harm.
“You were in the business, I’m sure you’d have heard of her too.” When Donald didn’t speak up, Benedict held his hand out in a placating gesture. “I’ve been doing this for a while. I didn’t use your services specifically, but I make it a point to know who to contact where, and you look very familiar. Have you transitioned to private security?”
“So to speak,” Donald said, unhappy that Benedict seemed to know so much about him. Veruca, disinterested in some sort of pissing contest, slid her hand across the table to lay her fingers gently over Benedict’s.
“He works for me. Let’s leave it at that. I haven’t heard bad things about you, and someone I care about deeply trusts someone who trusts you, so I’m going to assume you’ve meant nothing by throwing your knowledge of the two of us around. But, we are rather in a hurry to locate Officer Lam, so if you haven’t already made some calls, I’d like you to get on it. Whatever your fee, small or not, I will pay.”
“Like I said, I’ve heard of you. No fee, not this time. Just keep my name tucked away if you ever need help in the future. It’s said you’re a good connection to have for someone looking for interesting work.”
“Interesting is certainly one of the things you could call my life,” Veruca said with a smile, glad her read on the man hadn’t been incorrect. His posturing had, she could assume, been a curious gesture, his way of seeing how she and Donald would react rather than him subtly threatening either one of them.
“I’ve got two people to follow up with, and we’ll go from there, what do you say?” When Veruca nodded and sat back, he scooted his chair and got to his feet. “I’m gonna get a drink from your man. You two want anything? My treat.”
“No, but I appreciate the offer.”
Benedict nodded, moving to the counter and standing behind the two people who were currently enthralled by whatever story Finn was telling. It involved a lot of arm motions, dramatic finger-wiggling, and some random Irish that Veruca was only partially sure she remembered as being legitimate. Sometimes he’d make words up to impress people, or just for the hell of it because it was in his nature to be a showman.
“Do we trust him?”
“He’s a mercenary,” Veruca said, turning slightly to meet Donald’s eye. “But, he has an okay soul, for what it is he does. What got your back up?”
“Just … I can’t explain it. There wasn’t any specific emotional read, or language that got me, but I’ve learned to trust my gut.”
“He’s heard of me, which means he knows who I work for. I’m sure he was just trying to get a read, himself.”
“Hopefully he’s useful.”
“From what I’ve heard of him, he is very.”
“Well, then hopefully he’s quick.”
Chapter Eight
“That was fast,” Veruca said, leveling a sly glance at Donald before smiling fully at Benedict. “I appreciate the quick work.”
“Glad to be of service. Did you need me to come with? More backup never hurts.”
“You of all people know that’s not true,” Veruca said with a smile, and Benedict laughed, nodding in agreement. “Though I’ll keep your number handy. You said you’re in between jobs. How in between?”
“I have a few days.”
“Well, keep your phone on.”
“Will do. Donald,” Benedict said, holding out his hand, the look on his face telling Veruca he was hoping to leave a good impression on the bigger man. “No harm?”
“No harm,” Donald said, shaking Benedict’s hand. Veruca watched the sliver of Donald’s soul flit out of the tapestry of the whole and wriggle down his arm, doing a quick pass through Benedict, looping around the weaving, golden lines of his soul, before jetting back into Donald’s chest.
Benedict, who shouldn’t have known what happened, seemed to sense something and quirked his lips. “Satisfied?”
“Relieved,” Donald said, still serious, dropping Benedict’s hand. Veruca chuckled, shaking Benedict’s hand. “You really have been at this a while,” she said, still smiling.
“That and I have some … intimate experience with empathy. It’s not hard to recognize the signs.”
Veruca lifted a brow, curious but not willing to invade his privacy. “Thanks for the help, again. If we need anything else, we’ll drop you a line.”
“Such an outdated phrase,” Benedict said thoughtfully, before turning to head toward the door. “Good luck.”
Finn slid out from behind the counter as Benedict hit the door, hustling over in a way that Veruca recognized to mean he’d snuck in another Irish coffee or three. He wasn’t drunk, but there was a certain looseness to his movements that spoke of his love of whiskey.
“Who was the fox?” he asked, spinning to face Donald and holding his hands up. “Not that you’re not also a fox, Donny. No one’s foxier than my girl, though.” Leaning in, Finn caught Veruca in a kiss, his lips a little sloppy, and then slid his arm around her, pulling her close and hanging on. “The foxiest.”
“We should go, darling. We have a lead and you’ve had too much to drink.”
“I can still walk,” he said simply, as if that should wipe away all concern for his state of mind. “And there was coffee in that Irish coffee, so I’m halfway sober already.”
Veruca laughed, shifting his grip so she could lead him toward the door.
“Say goodbye to your friend. We’ve got a cop to see.”
“Lemme find her, give her a kiss goodbye,” Finn said, suddenly steering away and back toward the counter.
“You think we’re too late?” Donald asked quietly as they both watched Finn grab and hug everyone with a name badge who seemed game.
“Too late?” Veruca asked, looking up at Donald, suddenly concerned. “For what?”
“We’re supposed to speak with Lam’s passenger. Hopefully she hasn’t already dumped him in a holding cell somewhere with cameras and recording equipment.”
“We’ll have to take our chances,” Veruca said, hoping for the best.
****
Veruca was pleasantly surprised that Officer Lam was off duty and exactly where Benedict had said she’d be, but the real surprise was that her passenger wasn’t some low-life criminal. In fact, Veruca doubted the woman knew she had a passenger at all, considering the fact that his soul was spread across her human soul, weaved through in tiny bits that didn’t allow for full consciousness.
Veruca could guess, based on what she’d learned about necromancers from Finn’s ex, that this was by design and no happy accident.
“Interesting,” Veruca murmured as they stepped inside the coffee shop.
“Is that her?” Donald asked, his eyes falling on the only Asian woman in the room, correctly guessing based on the last name whom it was they’d been sent to find.
“It is,” Veruca said, stepping aside to let a group of chattering teens pass by with their to-go cups. She let her gaze linger on the tall blonde, meeting her eye and smiling when she felt the girl’s soul dart out and spastically zip through Donald, Finn, and herself, lingering there as Veruca winked and sent out a thought she knew the fae spawn girl could read: You’re not alone.
The girl, utterly shocked at Veruca’s awareness of her, paused for a moment, but was quickly shuffled away by her friends.
Just as well, Veruca thought, focusing back on Lam.
“I don’t see a passenger.” Donald sighed, frustration evident in his tone.
“I do,” Veruca said, before turning to smile warmly at Finn. “Darling, would you get us some coffees? No Irish, this time. Donald, would you keep him busy while I speak to our new friend?”
“You don
’t want me to join you?” Donald asked, looking lost.
“No, I think I may need to speak to her alone. If I need you, though, I’ll call you over.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
Veruca was already moving away, headed straight for Lam, taking her measure as she went.
The woman was small, about Veruca’s height, with short hair spiked at the top dramatically in a way that Veruca figured probably looked pretty damned intimidating when she was wearing her uniform and gun. She sat like someone used to being physical, with her body spread out, loose, and ready to jump into action should circumstances call for it. She was muscled but slim, calm for the moment as she sipped at a mug of frothed milk, but Veruca could tell she sensed the moment she had company, even though she didn’t look up immediately.
“Officer Lam?” Veruca asked, though she was focused more on the darkened glow in Lam’s chest, the bits of soul that didn’t belong but hadn’t been present for long enough to warrant removal. From the look of it, she still had another three years on her contract. Veruca knew she wouldn’t be able to wait that long before putting the pieces of the necromancer in her chest back together.
“Yep,” Lam said, looking up and giving Veruca a small, slightly insincere smile. It spoke of being used to being addressed when you’re not interested in speech, of knowing how to play the game but disliking it all the same. “Can I help you?”
“Veruca Lake,” she said, holding out her hand and hoping Lam accepted it. “I was given your name by a friend who said you might be able to help me.”
“Lake?” she asked, looking Veruca over once, an edge of interest there that wasn’t strictly professional or curious about the name that didn’t match Veruca’s coloring. “If it’s about traffic tickets, that’s not my department.”
“Nothing so crude,” Veruca said with a small smile, gesturing to the seat across from Lam. “Can I call you Eleanor?”
“Sure,” Lam said, gesturing to the seat, understanding that she was agreeing to more than exactly what Veruca had asked for. “Who was it that gave you my name?”
The mark on Eleanor’s soul spoke of a demon named Corlon, an older creature with more freedom in handling contracts than most of the demons in Belial’s ranks. She couldn’t read the exact agreement but knew the name might help sway Eleanor in giving Veruca the information she sought—whatever that may be.
“Perhaps ‘friend’ is too generous a term. I’m aware you know a … coworker of mine, goes by the name of Corlon.”
Eleanor was good, Veruca thought, as the woman stayed completely calm, poised, and controlled, taking a few moments to decide how she wanted to react. Nothing in her reaction—or lack thereof—gave away that Veruca had startled her, but Donald did look over sharply, tension singing through his shoulders as if his empathy had picked up something Veruca should be worried about.
She wasn’t worried, knew she didn’t have to be. Eleanor Lam hadn’t actually given away control of her soul, so Veruca couldn’t just reach in and pluck out or unravel it until the woman had too little awareness to move, but she was a cop in public and Veruca could see by the shiny soul in her chest that she wasn’t an evil person.
“I’m not here to collect, don’t worry. You’ve got plenty of time on your hands. I’m just here to talk.” Veruca held up her hands, smiling, hoping it would ease Eleanor’s suspicions. “Not here, though, as there’s no one else here who’s aware of the sorts of things we’d be discussing. Are you free to go for a walk? I hear Vancouver has a number of lovely parks and the weather’s nice enough to enjoy them. You’re free to call a friend, run my name if you don’t trust me. I just ask that you do so quickly, as I’m in somewhat of a hurry.”
“I don’t distrust you,” Eleanor said, shifting in her seat to lean forward and lower her voice. “That was part of the deal, helping out. I told the big guy I wouldn’t do anything illegal, but I got my … gift in exchange for helping out where I could. You need someone run down? A name traced? I know I said tickets weren’t my area before, but I can help there, assuming you’re on the level.”
“Like I said, nothing so crude. I’m not in any trouble, I just needed to ask you a few questions and I’ve been led to believe they might be of a…” Veruca looked around, noting the many purely human souls in the shop. The last person to possess any knowledge and awareness of anything outside the typical human world had been the mind reader. Everyone else lived in ignorance, sure that nothing more dangerous than a gunman or knife-wielding maniac existed. Those were terrifying enough, and Veruca didn’t want people to know that demons, fang-toothed fae with a taste for baby flesh, and people who could raise the dead occasionally wandered among them.
“A sensitive nature,” Veruca settled on, smiling. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her card, handing it over. “Do you have time to speak now?”
Eleanor took it, looking it over. Her lip quirked. “I’m guessing this isn’t about one of your hotels running a secret brothel?”
“No.” Veruca chuckled at the idea. “I have very good security.”
“Yeah, I have some time. Been to the Botanical Gardens? They shouldn’t be too busy, and they’re close enough to here that you won’t have to cab it, if you don’t have a car.”
“Sounds good.”
“Give me ten to get hold of a friend, let her know I’m pushing back our date, and I’ll see you there in, say, twenty?”
“Great. Again, thank you for agreeing to have a chat.”
“You bringing your boys?” Eleanor said, gesturing vaguely toward Finn, who was slurping noisily on some iced beverage that had undoubtedly been completely full only seconds before. Donald was looking disapproving, shaking his head and saying something Veruca couldn’t hear from her position.
“Only if you’re comfortable.”
“Sure, no skin off my back. The big guy should keep his hands clear of the weapon he’s got tucked under his jacket. The laws are different up here and friend or not, I can haul him in if I see it.”
“We won’t be staying long, and I’ll have him leave it locked in the car. I hadn’t realized he even brought it, I’m sorry.”
“He’s just moving a certain way is all,” Eleanor said, a smile tugging at her lips. “You can leave him in the car too. If you’re worried about your safety, you’ve no reason to be.”
“I’ll consider it. See you in twenty?”
“On the nose,” Eleanor said, taking a deep gulp of her drink as if to demonstrate she was serious about hurrying.
****
Donald had a real problem with being left in the car, and Finn’s offer to keep him company—accompanied by a wink and a wag of his eyebrows—didn’t change his mind. Veruca was confident things would be fine, however, even if it turned out Eleanor was nothing more than a typical human who knew nothing about Veruca’s position or the Prince of Hell himself.
That was common, Veruca had found. Most people didn’t question the powers or abilities or positions they were given, even if they were so outside of the norm that a typical human should have gone running for the hills at the very idea. The fact that Eleanor had a necromancer in her chest said she’d wanted something to do with raising the dead, and Veruca was curious about what, even enough to put off talking to the corpse puppeteer himself.
It would be tough, sewing his parts back together enough that he’d even have the awareness to have something to say. Veruca had never seen a necromancer’s soul take over a living body, however, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was possible.
“Eleanor,” Veruca said as she approached, holding out her hand.
Eleanor shook it briefly, before gesturing to the entrance. “We can go right in, wander around. We don’t have to go far if this isn’t a long conversation.”
“I’m not sure yet,” Veruca admitted, following her lead and heading into the gardens. They were quiet as they passed the initial clumps of people, moving through the flora and fauna until they found a reasonably secluded pl
ace to speak.
“May I ask about your contract?”
“You didn’t read it before coming to ask my help?”
“It’s not like we have a filing cabinet somewhere with neatly organized folders and names. I’m actually not privy to that information unless…” Veruca trailed off, unsure how to put it. “Management says so. I know you’re two years in, and that you’ve been given the power to raise the dead, but I’m not sure why or what you’ve offered in return.”
“Names,” Eleanor said, as if the idea were simple and obvious. “Of the people I catch. I have an email I send them to, if they meet certain qualifications. Past that, I don’t know what happens.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“I definitely did but was told knowing wasn’t part of the deal. I almost backed out because of it, actually.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I want to catch bad guys. Have since I was young. I know, Asian woman, cop—not a combo you see plastered in every primetime TV show, but the job means a lot to me.”
“Did you lose someone close to you?”
“My parents,” Eleanor said, this time less simply. “They were killed when I was young and no one was ever caught. I was raised by family, we all miss and honor them, but I just … wanted something more. Wanted to catch people who did that sort of shit and make sure they couldn’t do it again.”
“Noble,” Veruca said, wondering how that equated to raising the dead. She had an inkling but wanted to wait to hear it from the woman herself.
“I didn’t think of it, of the raising the dead part. I just … I still don’t know how it really came to be. I went into the academy and I was on the job and everything was harder than I thought it would be. I was just down, wondering if I’d done the right thing and this slick suit shows up, offering to buy me a drink and see if he had anything I was interested in. I thought he was hitting on me, and no way, so I told him to buzz off. He gave me his card—still have it, because it’s too weird.” She dug into her pocket, pulled out her wallet, and tugged the gold-rimmed business card from deep in an inner sleeve.
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