Midnight Labyrinth: An Elemental Legacy Novel

by Elizabeth Hunter

“I like you more when your Scottish comes out.”

  Gavin’s smile turned to a scowl. “What do you need?”

  “Ask around,” Tenzin said. “I want to know who the real thief is. Ben was content with one painting, but I’m fairly sure whoever is behind this will want all three, so keep an eye on the museum.”

  Gavin nodded. “I have a few contacts.”

  “They’ll have to move it, but Ben and I can look into that.”

  “They won’t use DePaul’s.”

  “Not now; too much attention. They’ll have other resources.”

  Gavin asked, “You have no idea who might be behind the girl?”

  Tenzin cocked her head. “I have suspicions. They picked her, which means they know him. They know his weaknesses. What he’s drawn to. Some of that is obvious because of his age, but some of it…”

  “Is personal.”

  Tenzin nodded.

  “Does our Ben have enemies already? He is precocious, isn’t he?”

  “One in particular I’m thinking of. Luckily, his friends still outnumber the enemies. For now.”

  “Ebbs and flows.” Gavin glanced at Chloe. “We leave her out of this bit.”

  “Agreed. She doesn’t have the stomach for revenge. Not right now.”

  “Does Ben?”

  “Ben?” Tenzin smiled. “You’ll have to ask Chloe’s ex-boyfriend sometime.”

  Gavin leaned back on the lounger. “I believe I will.”

  24

  Ben Vecchio walked into the diner in Queens and spotted Valerie Beekman immediately. She was sitting in a corner smoking a cigarette beside the No Smoking sign, along with all the other late-night visitors to the diner just off the highway. The booths were cracked and fixed with duct tape. Half the neon lights flickered.

  But perversely, the diner smelled fantastic. Gravy and chicken-fried steak drifted from the kitchen along with the scent of freshly brewing coffee.

  Valerie Beekman hadn’t seen him yet. He looked for the exits. One in the hallway by the bathrooms, but it was on the opposite side of the diner. The door he’d walked in. A fire exit near Valerie’s booth. That was the one she’d go for.

  If she even tried to run.

  He walked forward and shook his head at the waitress before she could speak to him. There was enough noise in the diner that his quarry didn’t look up. She didn’t look up until he was three feet away and standing between her and the fire exit.

  “Hey, Grandma.”

  The older woman looked up and a smile slowly spread over her face. “You’re a sharp one. I told her she was playing with fire.”

  Ben sat down when it became apparent Valerie wouldn’t run. He hadn’t thought she would. The age wasn’t part of the costume. She had to be in her eighties if she was a day. The old con woman knew her limits. She wouldn’t be outrunning him.

  “How’d you find me?” The French was gone, and her native Queens accent shone through.

  Ben said, “Your car.”

  Valerie frowned. “My car?”

  “GPS units are handy when you drive upstate to visit your granddaughter in school and need directions. Their online security sucks though.”

  “Told her…” She smirked. “Playing with fire.”

  “Who is she?”

  Valerie took another drag of her cigarette. “Don’t know.”

  “You took a job for four months and didn’t know who you were working with?”

  “I have no illusions.” She stubbed out a cigarette and lit another. “Do you know how many people want to hire an eighty-two-year-old woman? I’m not picky these days.”

  Fair enough. He couldn’t imagine she had a wealth of jobs available, though he had no doubt she’d ruled back in the day. Valerie would have been a stunner in her prime. Plus she was smart.

  “Your accent work is impressive. I’ve known a few French people over the years, and you nailed it.”

  “Thanks.” She took a drag on the cigarette. “That was my claim to fame. My Italian”—she slipped into an accent Ben knew backward and forward—“is even better than my French. Don’t you think?”

  If Ben didn’t know any better, he would have sworn up and down she was an upper-class woman from Genoa. He didn’t want to be impressed, but he was. The woman might have conned him, but she had class and skill.

  “I ran your bank numbers,” he said. “You’re doing better than average and drawing the max in social security.”

  “You better believe I am.”

  “So why are you still working?”

  The old woman shrugged. “I get bored. What’s life without a little job on the side?”

  “A little job like art theft?”

  “It’s always been my favorite,” Valerie said. “Usually things don’t get violent, and I like pretty stuff.”

  “Yeah, you and my partner.” Ben drummed his fingers on the table. “You’ve done pretty well for yourself, Valerie. Only two convictions and one stretch at Beacon. Not a bad career.”

  “You do know your shit.” She lifted an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “And all my kids are still talking to me.”

  “Well, you’re ahead of my mother on that one.”

  Valerie took another drag and nodded at Ben. “That figures. You grow up in this business and you know how it goes, young man. The girl had you. Lesson learned. You’ll be more cautious next time.”

  “That’s not how this goes,” Ben said.

  The old woman stubbed out her cigarette in the cut glass ashtray. “That’s how it’s gotta go.”

  “Not this time.”

  “You think you’re special or something?”

  “My auntie tells me I’m a goddamn treasure.”

  Valerie laughed, but it died on her lips when she saw his face. “Listen, kid, I know you’re upset about the job, but—”

  “I am not upset.” Ben leaned forward. “I’m focused. Does your daughter know how you pay for Autumn’s tuition, Valerie? How about your son-in-law? Cops don’t like being married to criminals.”

  “My daughter is not a criminal.” The old woman’s voice turned hard. “She never had anything to do with—”

  “Sure she didn’t. But he’s always wondered, hasn’t he? They almost split when he found out about you.”

  Her wrinkled lips twisted in anger. “He knows I did my time.”

  “What was your spin, Val? Poor single mom down on her luck and forced into check fraud? Been straight for nearly sixty years, huh?” Ben’s voice went cold. “You’ve been lying to him for thirty. You think he’s gonna take that? Your daughter will probably get through the divorce okay, but you think a cop is gonna let his precious daughter keep spending her summer at grandma’s place on Long Island if he knows you hang with criminals?”

  “I do not let any of that shit touch my family,” Valerie spit out. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  “I’m the kid who’s going to fuck up your nice life if you don’t tell me who the girl is.”

  She lit another cigarette, but this time her hand was trembling. “I told you, I don’t know.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “I heard the younger guy call her ‘angel’ once!” Valerie hissed. “She worked for him. I don’t know if it’s a nickname or a name.”

  “Tell me about the other guy.”

  “I’m pretty sure he really was French. Strange. He mentioned you a few times—didn’t like you much—but he was…” Her eyes drifted off. “Really… nice.”

  “Nice?” Something about her eyes stirred Ben’s memory. “What was his name, Val?”

  “Don’t know.” She furrowed her brow and shook her head. “I can’t remember details. I barely saw him anyway. The two of them, they always talked in the other room. I know he mentioned another name, but I don’t think it was his. Ellis. Emmet or something.”

  Ennis O’Brien. Ben wasn’t surprised to hear Ennis’s name. Maybe Ennis paid for something—used his connections to bring the Labyrinth Trilogy to the United
States—but the vampire wasn’t a con. Someone else put this together. Someone who knew Ben’s weaknesses. Someone… with a grudge?

  Pretty sure he really was French.

  Didn’t like you much…

  This was bringing back far too many memories of Scotland. Ben leaned forward. “The Frenchman. Did you ever see him during the day?”

  She frowned. “Yeah, of course.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I think…” Her eyes swam again. “Yes, he was very nice.”

  Ben muttered a curse, but at least he was sure the other person in the scam—the “son” that the neighbor had mentioned—was immortal. Valerie couldn’t tell him anything useful about him, which meant the vampire had wiped her memory with amnis.

  “The other name he mentioned, was it Ennis?” Ben asked.

  “No.” Valerie blinked. “Yes.”

  “It was Ennis?”

  “I think so.” Her eyes cleared. “What is going on here?” She looked at her coffee cup. “Did you drug me?”

  “I didn’t do anything to you. When did they take the painting?”

  “Two nights ago. It was gone an hour after you left the place.”

  So the night he’d been texting Emilie, she’d already ripped him off. He was tempted to get pissed off again, but that wasn’t a productive use of time.

  “What did the strange one look like? The man.”

  Valerie shrugged. “Good-looking. Longish brown hair. Brown eyes. He dressed European. All smiles and charm. Pale.” Her eyes narrowed. “Really pale. He must have been using something. He must have given me something that made my memory all cloudy.”

  “Sure.” Ben grabbed a golf pencil wedged in the corner of the booth and quickly sketched a face on the napkin. “I’m sure he gave you something.”

  She stubbed out her second cigarette and lit another. “I ain’t senile, kid.”

  “Not saying you are.” He finished the sketch and turned it around. “This the guy?”

  Valerie’s eyes went wide. “How’d you know?”

  It was all the confirmation Ben needed. “Go upstate to visit your daughter,” he said. “Maybe don’t come back to the city. Ever.”

  “Who are these people?”

  Ben stood. “Way more dangerous than your average lowlifes, Valerie. You want to keep that good streak going? Get out of town.”

  When he got back to the loft, Tenzin was already there with Gavin.

  “René DuPont,” Ben said. “He’s the vampire Emilie is working with. And I think Ennis—”

  “Ennis O’Brien is in on it?” Gavin asked. “You would be correct, my friend.”

  “René?” Tenzin turned to Gavin. “That would be the Frenchman I was talking about.”

  “The one who tried to kill Ben last year? That would explain the personal aspect.”

  Ben asked, “How did you know about Ennis?”

  “Besides being suspicious of a tricky minge?” Gavin asked. “Tenzin asked me to keep my ears open. There was gossip about Ennis meeting with a Frenchman—also an earth vampire—and trying to avoid attention. All sorts of our kind chattering about it though. Ennis canna keep a secret to save his life.”

  “In this case,” Tenzin said, “I believe that may be exactly right.”

  Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry, Gavin.”

  “For what? Tenzin’s already offered to pay me for the wine.”

  “For getting you involved in all this.”

  “Not your fault. This happens to all of us at one point or another.” Gavin smiled ruefully. “It’s almost an honor to see you taken for once. Your life has been far too charmed thus far.”

  “Sure,” Ben said. “Whatever you say.” His life had been shit before his uncle found him, and that shit just kept rearing its ugly head. His mother was right. You couldn’t trust anyone.

  “So who is this René DuPont?” Gavin asked.

  “A vampire we angered in Scotland,” Tenzin said. “He’s an interesting fellow. Related to Carwyn’s clan.”

  “The black sheep of that virtuous crowd, I’m guessing,” Gavin said. “And he’s teamed up with Ennis O’Brien to rip off Cormac O’Brien? That seems an unlikely play.”

  Tenzin said, “Ennis is an interesting development. I can’t decide if I’m surprised or not. In a way, I am.”

  “I’m not,” Ben said. “Didn’t Gavin say that this Lady of Normandy was negotiating a deal with Cormac? If it was successful, Cormac would cement his leadership of the clan. Right now he’s de facto. If he signed a distribution deal for blood-wine that brought in enough money and settled their businesses on the right side of the law, then he’d be undisputed.”

  Tenzin said, “Ennis doesn’t want that to happen.”

  “Does he want to take over?” Ben asked.

  “No. He doesn’t want to lead. He just doesn’t want Cormac to lead.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because then Cormac will have to kill him,” Tenzin said. “Once Cormac is truly the leader of the clan, he won’t be able to ignore Ennis’s messes. He’ll kill him. Ennis would partner with his worst enemy to save his own neck.”

  “You really think Cormac would kill him?” Gavin scowled. “It’s his brother.”

  “So?” Tenzin looked genuinely confused.

  Ben said, “So maybe… Ennis knows this Lady is coming to New York to negotiate with Cormac. They’ve probably been in talks for months.”

  “Ennis isn’t happy,” Tenzin said. “But René… Why is he involved? Do you think Ennis is paying him?”

  “Ennis is a cheap bastard,” Gavin said. “For all his extravagance, I don’t see him paying anyone. Not out of his own funds.”

  Ben said, “René only works if the price is right. Someone in France wants this vampire exposed or vulnerable. Ennis told me at the gala he’d just been to France. Even said he’d heard my name.”

  “France is a mess since Jean Desmarais was killed. It could be that this Lady of Normandy has her own enemies. Stealing the painting is about hurting her. Someone in France hires René to steal the Midnight Labyrinth, and René sees an opportunity when he meets Ennis O’Brien. Paintings are easier to steal when they’re being moved. René is savvy enough to use Ennis.”

  Tenzin nodded. “Ennis uses his connections through Historic New York to plan this surrealist exhibit and convince this vampire to contribute her artwork to the exhibit.”

  “And she accepts as a gesture of goodwill,” Gavin said.

  “But Midnight Labyrinth isn’t on display,” Tenzin said. “So René drops a pretty girl in Ben’s lap, and she leads him on a merry chase to find her lost treasure.”

  Ben curled his lip as Gavin and Tenzin shared a look. “Don’t say it,” he muttered.

  Gavin grinned. “It really was beautifully planned.”

  “It was, but I still don’t like it,” Tenzin said. “If Cormac had just killed Ennis the first time I told him he needed to, this would never have happened.”

  Ben rubbed his temples where a headache was forming. “To be fair, you suggest killing people a lot, Tenzin. I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m just saying that sometimes it seems excessive. That might have been Cormac’s reason for not taking your advice.”

  “I doona give two shites about O’Brien politics,” Gavin said. “It’s none of my business. What I do know is that this French bastard pissed off a very prominent blood-wine producer by taking her painting.”

  “You do remember that you helped in the theft, right?” Ben asked.

  “Not as far as she knows. But if I can help get it back to her”—the Scotsman’s smile turned wicked—“I imagine I’ll be able to sign a very favorable deal. And that’s always worth my time.”

  Ben shook his head. “Always a profit angle.”

  “Well, yes. Some of us aren’t charitable humans.” Gavin walked to the fridge and grabbed a cold beer. “So we know that René DuPont has the painting and he wants to move it back to France. So
what is his next play? He’ll try to move the painting, yes?”

  Tenzin shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  Ben said, “If this is René, then he’ll want all three paintings.”

  “Maybe he was only contracted for one.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Tenzin said. “He’ll want all three.”

  “How do you—”

  “I’d want all three,” Ben said. “If I could get them. Wouldn’t you?”

  Gavin pursed his lips. “Fine. Yes. It’s neater. And it’s a really excellent series. I have a house outside Barcelona that would… Well, never mind. So René will be looking to steal the other two paintings, but they’re at the museum.”

  “Far better security at MoMA,” Tenzin said. “I checked.”

  “Of course you did,” Ben said. “So… we have to steal them before René does.”

  “We don’t have to steal them,” Tenzin said. “Not exactly. We just have to make sure they don’t get stolen.”

  Gavin and Ben both looked at her.

  “So yes,” she said. “The easiest way to make sure of that is to take them ourselves.”

  “Exactly,” Ben said. “So how do we break in?”

  They all turned when they heard a key in the door.

  Chloe walked in. “Hey.”

  Ben stared at her. He’d forgotten Chloe didn’t work at the bar that night. Shit.

  She frowned. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  All three of them said it at once.

  All three of them were lying.

  Chloe dropped her backpack by the door. “Really?”

  “What?” Ben was using his innocent look.

  “Do you honestly believe that face is going to work?” she asked. “I’ve seen it for too many years. I repeat: what’s going on?”

  Gavin said, “I thought you were working at the pub tonight, dove.”

  Chloe didn’t mind dove when Gavin was being sweet, but it pissed her off when he was being secretive.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Well, sugar-buns, I don’t work at the pub on Thursday nights. I work here with Tenzin. I’ll forgive you all for forgetting that because you’re involved in plotting a dastardly plan. Now, what is going on?”