by Jackie May
A woman adds, “Yeah, but that was after chasing the bomb car all the way through downtown Detroit and ramming it off the road.”
Another guy continues the story. “Yeah, but that was only after she and Detective Brenner took down a baphomet. Right?”
All eyes look to me, and at this point I’m practically glowing. “They got all this from you?” I ask Hillerman.
With a humorless smile, she says, “I took your asset, Agent Davies, but I would never take your credit.”
“Wow, so…thank you, I guess?”
“In any case, now you get what you always wanted. Arael’s all yours.” Hillerman then makes an announcement to her staff. “Agent Davies will now educate us all in the art of interrogation, a skill which the FBI not only invented, but perfected over the course of the last century. We’ve had Arael Moaz in custody for over three months, and in that time, even with the use of powerful underworld coercion techniques, we’ve gotten absolutely nothing out of him. So I, for one, am eager to finally see somebody crack this egg. Agent Davies, the floor is yours.” The humorless smile returns to her lips, which I now want to slap clean off her sarcastic face.
I chuckle nervously. “Wow, no pressure or anything. So, okay…I just have a few questions. You guys are listening to his cell?”
“24/7.”
“Right, of course. You never know if demons might talk in their sleep, right?” I glance pointedly at Hillerman, and her smile drops flat. “But what I’ll need is for you to cut all the audio to that room.” Hillerman starts to protest. I talk over her. “I mean it. Not only will there be no recording, but none of you in here will be listening in to our conversation. When I get in there, I’m going to signal you, and you will cut the audio, got it?”
“Video stays,” Hillerman says. “Nonnegotiable.”
“Deal. Another thing—there’s guards down there?”
“Two. At the door.”
“Perfect. Inform them to leave the room, but only on my command. I want Arael Moaz to know that I’m in charge here. I’m above the FBI.”
“Done. Is that all?”
My foxy ears pick up on the approach of high heels outside the room, which reminds me: “No. I need one of your walkie-talkies.”
“What for?”
“For her.” I nod to the door, which opens to reveal the pretty cafeteria worker, now dressed in tight jeans, high heels, and a form-fitting hoodie. Her eyes are accentuated by dark liner, and her hair flows over her shoulders. The guys in the room openly gawk at her, which is just what I was hoping for. “When I signal to you on the walkie, go ahead and send her in.”
“In, where?” she asks with a trembling voice. “Into one of the cells? Is it safe?”
Hillerman is shaking her head. “Shayne, no.”
“Yes, into the cell, and yes, you’ll be safe, trust me. You won’t have to say a word. I just need for you to stand there, that’s all. Easiest bonus pay you’ll ever get.”
She brightens. “Bonus pay?”
“Absolutely, but don’t make that face. When you come in, just look serious. No, look…” I try to think of the right description. “Look broody, like you’re perpetually pissed off.” I frame Hillerman’s face with my hands. “Here! Just like this, see?”
The girl, bless her little heart, tries to mimic Hillerman’s pout, which makes Hillerman bristle, and then the girl actually tries to mimic her bristle!
“Yes!” I exclaim. “Perfect.”
The entire staff is doing their damnedest to stifle their giggles. Hillerman clamps my elbow in a vice grip and marches me out into the hall. “Why don’t you want us listening in? What are you going to ask him?”
“Look, you’ve withheld plenty of intel from me. Now it’s my turn. If and when you need to know, I’ll let you in on it. For now, all you need to do is give me twenty minutes alone with him, then come crash the party with all your jurisdiction bullshit. From there, I’m counting on fireworks, which should come naturally between us, as always.”
She gives me a searching look. “Tell me something. Is it your belief that I don’t trust you? That I don’t like you?”
It’s a haunting question, reminding me of the “other” Hillerman who spoke to me at the kitchen table. I know this may be hard to believe, Shayne, she had said, but the truth is, she genuinely likes you. “No,” I say. “I don’t think that. What I think is that maybe there’s something about your life that you don’t like. Maybe something you can’t really control, and that must be frustrating for you.”
After what seems like an eternity of just looking at each other in silence, Hillerman leans in close and lowers her voice. “If there’s something I said…in my sleep—anything at all—you need to tell me right now.”
I heave a dramatic sigh. “Okay, fine, it’s just…it’s a little embarrassing, that’s all.”
She leans in even closer. “Yes? What? What is it?”
“Well, there was, like, heavy breathing, and a lot of moaning the name Russo.”
Hillerman steps back and pinches the bridge of her nose, as though a migraine has suddenly sprouted.
“What? I’m just saying think about it. Russo likes you. I’ve never seen him so loopy for a woman before.”
“I’m giving you ten minutes alone, then I’m coming in.”
“Only ten?”
“You’re already wasting time.” She flings open a door to a dark closet, slaps a walkie-talkie into my hand, and walks away.
“In there? Are you kidding?” I step into the closet, where a black iron staircase spirals down through the floor. It’s so dark, I can’t see shit, and the spiral staircase seems never-ending. Clunk, clunk, clunk—step after metal step, I descend into the bowels of the ship. My sensitive ears prick at the sounds of groaning steel from the massive hull pushing through thick, icy water. When at last I reach the bottom, I pause in front of a bulkhead door to gather my confidence. I hadn’t planned on how scary it would be down here. Pitch black and echoing like a cave.
After a deep breath, I knock on the bulkhead. The hatch release spins and the door opens with a deep screech from rusted hinges. When I step through the hatch, I can’t see the whole space because of the darkness, but I can feel the vastness of the cargo hold. It feels like I’ve just stepped outside on a dark, moonless night, only there are no stars in the sky, because somewhere up there in the black, three stories above me, is a domed ceiling.
“We’ve been briefed, Agent Davies,” says one of the guards. “We’re at your disposal.”
“Good. Now get the hell out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they both reply, before filing out and closing the hatch behind them.
Way out there in the middle of the hold is a lone spotlight shining down on a hospital bed, where Arael Moaz lies completely still. The only signs of life are his raspy, labored breaths that fill the chamber with ghostly echoes. I recall what Hillerman told me about the Deep world, which exists in the same space as the real world, but is invisible to our eyes. Is Arael’s horde of Deep minions crowded around him now, climbing over each other to get a look at me? Licking their lips? Pushing into my mind?
My heart hammers a triple beat for each of my footsteps as I approach the bed. Arael’s eyes are open, but they don’t acknowledge me. Looking into the corners of the hold, I see tiny green lights blinking. I bring the walkie-talkie to my lips. “What’s the holdup? I said I want all audio feeds cut. Do it now, or I get every single one of you reassigned to the ogre squad in Buffalo.”
The green lights blink once, then turn red.
“Just you and me, gramps.”
A low, insidious laugh rolls quietly through the chamber. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s coming from Arael’s barely-parted lips. My flesh crawls at the sight of his black eyes set deep into a wrinkled face that wants desperately to slide down his skull into the folds of his neck.
“Wanna tell me the joke?”
“I knew you’d come.” I’m taken aback by his voice, w
hich is strong and clear—not wheezy and frail, like the last time I heard him. “I was hoping it would happen this way. That they’d get to him first, so you’d come to me with a vengeance.”
“Oh, you’re talking about your people going after Brenner last night? Yeah, that didn’t go so well for your team. The silverback got another face full of lead. He won’t be passing through airport security ever again. You’re sounding good, though. I see they’ve spared no expense keeping you alive.” Hooked up to his IV stand are two canisters of glowing orange liquid. I’m guessing it’s some sort of fey elixir meant to extend life. “Pretty harsh, seeing as how all you wanted for Christmas was to die. Now that’ll never happen.”
He scowls. “Never is a word you are unqualified to use. Understand this. Time is reckoned only by mortals such as yourself. For us, time does not exist. As measured in your finite time, there is no end to the grievance between you and me, see? There is only one end, and that is with death to you and yours. It could be tomorrow, or next year, or ten years from now, when you’re tucking little ones into bed. My horde doesn’t ever sleep, nor do their memories ever fade, nor do they ever grow weary of vendetta. Until your suffering is complete, a hundred years would not end it. A thousand years would not end it.”
“How about a million years? I’d have to think that a million years…I mean, c’mon.”
Arael blinks, and an exasperated sigh hisses through his lips. A part of my pride is tickled to know that my powers of annoyance extend even to demon horde masters.
“But look, I’m not here to talk about me. I’m here to talk about my job”—I glance at the tiny lights again, to make sure they’re still red—“which is to take you back into FUA custody, because I no longer trust the loyalties of Special Agent Hillerman. I know she’s one of you.”
At last, Arael’s gaze moves. His dead shark eyes latch onto mine.
“I know she’s not from your horde,” I elaborate, “but still.”
“She belongs to no horde.”
“Either way.”
“Either way,” he parrots, “you see the hypocrisy in it.”
“Oh, she’ll be dealt with, trust me. But right now I need you to tell me how it works. If she’s possessed by some demon, is she also still herself? Is the real Charlotte still in there somewhere?”
“Why would I tell you anything about it?”
“Simple. You scratch my back, I kill you in the face.”
His eyes gleam. “You would kill me?”
“It’s my New Year’s resolution.” I pull my jacket back at the waist, revealing the handgun on my hip.
“I couldn’t tell you what you want to know.”
“What do I want to know?”
“His name.”
“The name of her demon? You know him?”
“I’m a horde master. You think I earned those stripes by being a snitch? In any case, I don’t believe you’d do me the favor of killing me. Even the Agency has rules.”
“The rule of the FUA is to protect the damn FUA, and that includes protecting it from Washington. Hillerman’s up to something with you, and she’s not the sharing type. The Agency wants in, and if nobody will talk, then I’m fully authorized to take you by force, in or out of your body.”
His head rises from the pillow. “Out of my body? That, I’d like to see.”
“It’s tempting, I know.” I tap my fingers on the grip of my gun. “If it weren’t for the fact that you would haunt me afterward, right?”
His cracked lips pull into a thin smile. “It’s not what you’re thinking. There are upsides to a haunting.”
“Upsides? I can’t wait to hear this.”
“Since your act of delivering me from this body would not be met with the least bit of resistance from me, there would be no friction in our bond. I would have no negative energy on which to feed, making my connection with you rather docile. In fact, I may even be willing to completely wipe the slate clean between us.”
“Huh. Maybe it’s just me, but that sounds very much like a bribe.”
“Call it what you want.”
I wrap my fingers firmly around the grip of my gun. Arael sucks in his bottom lip, salivating at the thought of finally being freed from his prison. “Maybe ‘bribe’ isn’t the right word,” I say. “Maybe it’s more like a truce?” Arael’s face goes blank, and that’s when I know I’ve caught him in a bluff. “Except that the idea of a truce—even the mention of the word truce—would be the last thing to ever come out of a warmonger’s mouth. You’re a terrible liar, for a demon. Let me tell you exactly what you think would happen, and what you hope I’d be too dumb to figure out. I kill you in the face, and you haunt me, but only until Beyona tracks me down, after which I’m kidnapped and taken to a secret necromancy ritual, in which Tabitha Durran summons you away from me and into a reanimated body. Your new reign of terror then begins by killing me in some barbaric way.”
His head lowers back onto the pillow. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to be shocked that you know so much?”
“No. This is the part where you wonder why I’m not more scared of you.”
“Because you’re naive.”
“Actually, it’s because a lot’s happened since you been in here, gramps. New faces. A new ally. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”
“Who?” He tries to sound skeptical, but I can see the doubt flickering in his eyes. My bluff is working.
Just then, the hatch door swings open and Hillerman comes in shouting. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I don’t know what favors you pulled to get in here, but the FUA has zero jurisdiction over this facility.”
My hand twitches on my gun. I want to shoot her. She told me ten minutes. It’s barely been five. If her objective is to get genuine anger from me, it’s working. “Are you kidding me? FBI lost the handle on this the second Henry Stadther was killed and Brenner’s memories of the revenants were unlocked.” I’m pleased to hear a slight hitch in Arael’s breathing. He’s getting tense, hearing how much we know about his secrets. “The FUA’s taking over, effective immediately, and starting with Arael Moaz, who, I might remind you, was our catch to begin with.”
“Listen to my words, Agent Davies. You. Don’t. Have. Authority.”
“And you don’t have any more time. You’ve had him for months. What have you got? Nothing.”
“Not yet, but I will. I’ve got requests in for…let’s just say ‘stronger methods.’”
“Forget your methods. Start thinking in terms of power. Why bother getting him to talk, when we can take complete control of him? The East Side horde is prepared, and they’re one step ahead of us, I’ll give them that. But I guarantee you they didn’t prepare for our side having a siren.”
Arael’s uneven breathing stops altogether. I think I’ve just given him a heart attack. Both Hillerman and I turn to check on him. One of his eyes is a bit twitchy as he concentrates on my face, trying to read me, searching for the bluff.
Hillerman’s interest is piqued. “Nora Jacobs?”
“A siren’s call is dark magic. It doesn’t control the body. It ensnares the soul.” I wink at Arael. “No matter which body it’s in.”
Hillerman is genuinely stunned. “So, she would enslave him, and he would be forced to tell her whatever she asks.”
“Think bigger,” I say, gesturing to the colorful elixirs. “After we enslave his soul, we cut him loose. Pull the plug on all this. He dies of natural causes. Nobody gets haunted. We wait for the horde to reanimate him, and when they do…”
“We have full control of their master.” She narrows her eyes. “There’s just one problem. Would Nora Jacobs do it?”
In response, I press the button on my walkie. “Send her in.”
With a long, slow creak, the bulkhead door opens. Cafeteria Girl steps into the cargo hold, and then the door shuts with an ominous clang. As she walks toward us, I see that her hands are trembling. On the side of my body that is hidden from Arael, I make a sign of
sliding my hand into my jacket pocket. Picking up on it, she jams both hands into her hoodie pocket. Good girl.
The effect is complete. While I see only a nervous cafeteria girl acting pouty, what Arael Moaz sees is the slow and inevitable approach of doom. His breathing becomes ragged. Panicked.
Hillerman puts a hand up. “Hold on, now. I agree this could work—”
“It will work.”
“—but give me time to run this up the chain. I would need a dozen authorizations first.”
“Oh, you need more time?” I say, and then I call out to the girl, “Walk slower, please.”
“I’m serious, Shayne.” The way Hillerman says my name, and the slight way she tilts her head at me, signals that she wants me to pay particular attention to what she’s about to say. She wants to steer me in some direction. “The FUA can’t take possession of a UTF asset without a federal order, and they won’t grant it unless you can prove that I can’t get any more out of him.”
I catch her drift immediately, and it’s a great con, if I must admit. She’s better at this than I thought. I guess I’m glad I didn’t shoot her just now. “Oh, bullshit! We’re way past that point, and you know it. You just said it yourself—you haven’t been able to get squat out of him. So unless you have grounds to file an extension, we’re going with my plan.”
Like a pro, Hillerman pivots off my assist and lays an obvious—maybe too obvious—lifeline right at Arael’s feet. “But I can’t file for an extension unless he gives me something.”
“Not my problem. You’ve got five more steps.”
It only takes two more steps for Arael Moaz to break. “I don’t have what you want. This was Beyona’s operation. She pushed for the necromancer, not me.”
“Here she is, the siren of Detroit.” I sweep my arm between Cafeteria Girl and the horde master. “Arael Moaz, Nora Jacobs. Nora Jacobs, your next meal.”
Arael ducks his face, covering his eyes with a hand.
“She’s not a vampire, that’s not how it works. All she has to do is sing. Time for a hearing aid check.”
“I turned Tabitha Durran away!” Arael appeals to Hillerman, his only perceived ally in the room. “You know why! She’s possessed by a powerful demon whom I won’t name, but everybody knows you don’t invite that kind of rogue into your horde.”
