Deadworld

by J N Duncan

  Nick shook his head and headed for the Durango. The bear was winning.

  Chapter 40

  Jackie finally turned to look at John after ten minutes of silence in the car. She had feigned sleep in the hopes of quelling any conversation he might have, but now that he was actually saying nothing, the silence was beginning to bother her. He glanced at her once, expressionless, for the most part, and then faced back toward the road. Jackie figured it best not to ask what was on his mind. If it was important, he would tell her.

  Five minutes after they left, she had felt a pang of guilt over sniping at Nick. He likely had saved her from more serious injury, even if she could have crawled out of there. She just remembered Laurel, her body gray and transparent in the smoke, fighting the man in the derby hat. Ghosts, both of them. Jackie sighed. She could not recall ever feeling more out of control of a case in her life.

  “I’ll take a long vacation after we nail this guy, sir. I swear, a month at least. I think it will be over in a few days.”

  John gave her a smile that was some mixture of sadness and understanding. “You still have to speak with Tillie, Jack. I bend a lot of rules, but not that one.”

  “We’re talking only a few days,” Jackie said, trying not to sound desperate. “I’m good for that at least.”

  “You’re good for nothing at the moment, Jack,” he replied, annoyance creeping in at last. “You’re lucky I didn’t force you to stay the night in the hospital for observation. You can go talk to her and then get a few hours sleep, or you can sign a vacation slip now, and I’ll see you back in the office next month. Clear enough?”

  Jackie humphed and then winced at the pain it caused in her side. “With all due respect, sir, you suck.”

  “Privilege of being the boss,” he said as they pulled into the underground garage. “Now go see Auntie Tillie, and I’ll see how you’re doing after. I’m going to try to get Mr. Anderson down here to brief us more thoroughly on just what it is we’re dealing with. No more special investigators for the supernatural. Everyone is going to deal with it.”

  Jackie shoved her door open as they came to a stop. “I guess I shouldn’t take that personally, should I?”

  “Jack, you know what I meant. You’re a damn good agent who is hurting bad. Go speak to Tillie. If she gives you the go-ahead, I won’t second-guess her.”

  She got out and slammed the door. There were no words he could soothe her with when it came to speaking to their local shrink. Doing her damnedest to look normal, Jackie favored her leg, limping over to the elevator, and left Belgerman behind.

  Seven floors up, Jackie stepped out onto the human-resources floor, an area she saw maybe once or twice a year. An innocuous-sounding part of the floor was entered through a door labeled PERSONNEL SERVICES. Matilda’s office was at the end of the hall beyond the small reception area. The carpets were plush and silent, the colors soft and muted. Everything about the damn place screamed calmness. Jackie crossed her arms over her chest, about to tell the fluffy little receptionist she was there to see Aunt Tillie, when Tillie stepped out in the hall and motioned her down the hall.

  Jackie eyed the young woman behind the desk. “You beeped her, didn’t you?”

  She gave Jackie a faint smile. “I was really sorry to hear about Ms. Carpenter. I liked her.”

  The snarky retort Jackie had been building up died in her mouth. “Yeah, me, too.” She limped off down the hall to meet her doom.

  Aunt Tillie was sitting down in her soft, plump, cushioned leather chair across from an identical one that Jackie found herself sinking into. She would have stood, just to annoy Tillie, but the knee was killing her, and she had to admit that staying awake was becoming a struggle. The chair could have almost been termed a love seat, perfect for curling up in, and much as she tried to dump the thoughts, sleep kept invading her system in all directions. A little nap, couple hours, I’ll be good for the afternoon.

  “Hello, Jackie,” Tillie said, her voice filled with concern. From a tray beside her, she filled a cup with some tea and set it down on the small coffee table between them. Behind her on the other side of the chair was her big, old mahogany desk that everyone secretly wished to kill her for. Nobody in the building-or most of the city, for that matter-had such a lovely, ornate, and perfectly polished desk. The skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling window was a shroud of gray, swirling mist.

  “Dr. Erikson.”

  “Drink,” she said. “It will help you relax, and lord knows you look like you could use it.”

  “I’m fine, really,” Jackie said. She didn’t even believe herself. Sitting up straighter, she made an effort to smile, but sitting across from the big, motherly woman-in her green cashmere sweater, a pleated khaki skirt, her little gold chain with the charms, and the little pearl earrings-had Jackie’s stomach in knots. “Okay, I’m not fine, but I’ll live.” God, the woman made her want to crawl out of her skin!

  “Dear, relax. This is informal. No notes, nothing on record, just a conversation between two grown women.”

  Jackie contemplated picking up the tea, but feared her shaky hands would make the cup rattle in the saucer. Any more signs of nerves, and, no doubt, Tillie would have her shipped off to the psych ward. “I was ordered here, Dr. Erikson.”

  “Tillie, please.” She sipped on her tea for a moment. “All right, so it isn’t a social call, but still. You can let that guard down for two seconds, Jackie. I’m not going to recommend you take time off. Yet.”

  Just like that? No prodding? No “tell me what’s really going on”? She had gotten enough of that from her during her last psychological evaluation. She had dug around in Jackie’s past enough to know a good deal about what was really going on, and to this point, Jackie had successfully avoided any direct conversations with her about it. “Seriously? You’ll let me finish this case, just like that? No questions? No ‘what about Laurel’? Nothing?”

  “Jackie,” she said, setting down her tea and leaning forward. Her hands were folded together, arms resting on her knees. “Look at me, please.”

  Jackie had turned away without thinking when Tillie had leaned forward. There was a soft, pitying look about her face that made her stomach squirm, and not so much because she didn’t want that sympathetic, trusting gaze falling upon her, but because she realized it made her want to talk. Tillie was worse than the vampires.

  “What?” Jackie asked.

  “I know you’re hurting physically, emotionally, spiritually. You look beat in more ways than one. If you agree to come back and see me after this is done… on a weekly basis… I won’t tell John you should have a month off at a minimum.”

  What? Extortion? The kindly, plump mother of the FBI’s Chicago office was resorting to extortion? “Why would I agree to that? You know I have no desire to be here.”

  She leaned back and picked up her tea, sipping at it for a moment. “Because if you don’t, dear, I suspect your career in the FBI is over.”

  There was no threat implied. They both knew what she referred to, and Jackie chewed on her lip, pondering the choice, and suddenly found herself appalled that she could even consider trading justice for Laurel over her own discomfort, pain, and embarrassment. “Fine. It’s a deal. I can’t believe you’re resorting to such low tactics. You’re a sneaky bitch when you want to be, Tillie.”

  She laughed. “You have no idea.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’ve been planning for this moment for years?”

  “Oh, but I have,” she said, the smile turning sly. “I knew it would come. One day something would come along that would mean more to you than protecting that hurt, twelve-year-old girl locked away in your heart.”

  Jackie swallowed hard. Damn her. Bitch was doing it on purpose. Didn’t matter if she was right. “We done here then?”

  Tillie shook her head. “No. I want to know what’s happened on this case from your point of view. John filled me in, but I think I find it’s lacking some things. I’d like to hear your
side.”

  “Why?”

  “Humor me, Jackie. I need it regardless to note your current state of mind so I can file the proper paperwork.”

  “Are you this big a pain outside the office?”

  She just smiled. “Pick up your tea, if you can without spilling, and tell me what’s happened.”

  Jackie took a deep breath. Therapists were the devil, no two ways about it. “I’m not thirsty.”

  Chapter 41

  Nick watched Jackie doze off for the fourth time during his briefing. Gamble kindly kept nudging her, but Nick wished he would just let her be. The case appeared to finally be unnerving the rest of them. It had begun to sink in, the fact they were dealing with something both more and less than human. Nick held out the vague hope that he could set the stage by having Reggie show up, but Reggie remained curiously and disturbingly silent. Even the smart-aleck Pernetti kept his mouth shut.

  After sixty minutes of explaining everything he and Shelby could do, what he had seen Drake do over the years, and his own meager efforts to stop him, Nick had the group about as up to speed as he was. They now knew what their capabilities were.

  “Thank you, Mr. Anderson,” Belgerman said, standing up from his seat. “I’m not sure how much it will help, but we are more informed than we were, which can’t hurt.”

  “If we catch him on this side, can we keep him from crossing back over?” Gamble wondered after leaning against Jackie yet again.

  “The crossing over is, like I said, a mystery to me as well,” Nick said. “I’ve never done it. I intend to do it only one time.”

  “And what if the only way to catch him is to follow him to wherever the fuck it is he goes?” Pernetti asked.

  Nick could only shrug. “I don’t know. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Has any information been dug up on him?”

  “No,” Gamble answered. “We’re trying to trace him through the Rolls and the old furniture store, but it’s been nothing but dead ends. Something might break, but it could take days or longer before we find it.”

  “We probably have less than two,” Belgerman added. “So let’s get back to it, everyone. Mr. Anderson and Ms. Fontaine are our main links to tracking this guy down right now, so everyone keep an ear out for their call if and when it comes.”

  It didn’t matter. Drake could track them easily enough if he had access to spirits on the other side to do his grunt work. Cynthia at least would be fine-some smoke inhalation, a cracked rib, and some bumps and bruises. He wondered what she had been up to in order to bring down one of Drake’s goons. He needed to keep her out of all this. She needed to stay on the sidelines.

  Shelby had said little since Cynthia’s, but the undercurrents in her voice had told Nick all he needed to know. She would be out for blood at the first opportunity, and Nick knew there would be no stopping her.

  “Jackie, go get some sleep. You slept through half the meeting.” Belgerman’s tone indicated that it was not a suggestion.

  She stood up, one hand leaning on the table for support. Nick could see the imperceptible wavering of her body. She would not even be able to stand much longer, much less stay awake. “I’ll grab a cot in the break room.”

  “No,” Belgerman said, sounding much like a father. “You’ll lay down on a real fucking bed and get five or six hours minimum of sleep. If I hear from you before eight o’clock tonight, you’re fired.” He pointed a finger at her, stabbing the air for emphasis. “And take some goddamn meds, for Christ’s sake. Being awake does you no good if you’re in too much pain to walk.”

  “It looks worse than it is,” Jackie said, limping toward the door.

  “Bullshit,” Belgerman snapped back. “Gamble, take her home, and you better find someone to post there. She might be a target now, for all we know.”

  “That’s a waste,” she retorted. “I don’t need a damn babysitter. I just need-”

  “Do you know that you aren’t a target?”

  “Sir, I’m not… Okay, fine, I don’t know. I can just sleep here anyway.”

  “People doze here, Jack. They don’t rest. You going to push me on this?”

  Her shoulders slumped, and she leaned wearily against the doorjamb. “No, sir.”

  “Good.”

  Nick offered a pained smile even as he spoke up. “She can stay at my place. I’ve got extra rooms, and I can hang out there until this evening. If Shelby gets a hit on Drake, you send someone out, and I’ll head into town. Drake won’t be coming to my place.”

  “What?” Jackie pushed herself back straight. “I’m not sleeping at your place. That’s crazy.”

  Belgerman’s eyes narrowed. “Why is that crazy? Sounds like a reasonably legit plan to me. You aren’t staying here, and, honestly, I trust Nick’s opinion on this stuff. If he says you’ll be safe out there, that’s where you should be.”

  Nick watched Jackie pondering the trap she was in. Her mouth worked in soundless agitation, and the look she gave might have melted lesser men. He knew she didn’t want to, but, like it or not, she would be protected at his house, and if he guessed right, she would not want to look chicken by saying she would rather be at home pulling an extra man out of the search for Drake.

  She threw up her hands. “Fine. Stupid fucking idea, but fine. I’ll get a couple hours in and then come back down to help out. That okay with you two?”

  Belgerman nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll see you back here-”

  The door slammed shut behind her as she limped out. Nick let out his breath. Maybe it was an even poorer decision than he’d first thought. “She’ll need more than two hours.”

  “Don’t worry, Nick. She’ll be fine once you get her out there and in a bed.” He chortled at his own wording the moment he finished. “Sorry, didn’t mean it quite that way.”

  Nick gave him a feeble grin. “I wasn’t even close to taking it that way. I think she would prefer to strangle me at the moment.”

  “Probably right,” John said with an amused shrug. “Glad she’s at your house and not mine. She’s on vacation the second this case is done.”

  She needed that vacation now. Yesterday. Nick could not help wondering to himself if Jackie would even make it to the end of this case. Emotional stress was particularly hard to manage if you were physically hurting. He knew that well enough. “She really needs it.”

  “Nick,” he said, laying a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “You’re absolutely sure this Drake guy is not going to come anywhere near your place?”

  He nodded once. “Trust me, John. He’s too close to the end, and he won’t risk mucking his plans to come after one little beat-up FBI agent on the off chance I get lucky and get him. She’s safe.”

  “Okay, thanks. This is just a little against protocol, but we don’t really have one when it comes to dealing with vampires.”

  Nick shook his hand and left to track down Jackie. This is just a little against my protocol as well.

  Chapter 42

  A little demon inside Jackie’s head continued to jab his pointy little fork at her skull. His cousin lanced her ribs with a shish kebab skewer on every breath, and some torturous little bastard with hot coals and a cheese grater was telling her to keep the knee still or else. Mostly, however, it was the notion of going to sleep at Nick’s. Why had she agreed to such a stupid idea? Grief. It had to be the only logical explanation for thinking that napping at the vampire’s pad was a good idea.

  He stopped at her apartment so she could pick up extra clothing, and grabbing a few things from the bathroom gave Jackie time to actually look at her reflection in a mirror for the first time since the attack at Cynthia’s house. “God, I really look like shit.” Then again, that was probably a better state of affairs when hanging with a vampire. Maybe the attraction for blood was less if you were unattractive. “Nuts,” she muttered and grabbed the small bag with a brush, toothbrush and paste, and deodorant. “I’m completely fucking nuts.”

  Outside the bathroom, Jackie realized there was a
dent in her wall. She could not even recall how it had gotten there. She fed Bickerstaff an extra-large bowl of cat food with some tuna mixed in, scooped his cat box, and marched back out the door with her duffel. The sky was threatening, storm clouds rolling in from the west. There would be rain. All the better, Jackie figured. It suited her mood.

  The rain had begun to fall by the time they reached Nick’s, and the misty drizzle, along with the fading, late afternoon light, gave the house a warm, inviting look. Fucker. Why couldn’t he live in a shitty, two bedroom apartment like every other lowlife private dick?

  Fortunately for Nick, he had kept quiet the entire trip out, letting Jackie doze, her head propped against her hand. She had been ready for him to say something, anything remotely tactless, and give her a reason to tell him to fuck off, but he had not. He had known to leave well enough alone. He said nothing until the clunk of the garage door behind them made Jackie jump in her seat.

  “I’ll take your bag into the spare room and get things situated for you.”

  Jackie looked at his hand as if he held a cockroach in his palm. “I’ll hold on to it, thanks. Just show me the room, and I’ll get my couple hours. Then you can turn around and take me back downtown.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself, Jackie, but there is no way you will be back up in two hours.”

  Opening the door, Jackie stepped out of the car. “It looks a lot worse than it is, believe me. I’ve been worse off and been just fine.” The look Nick gave her, staring at her with those luminous eyes, clearly stated his opinion on her assessment. “Fuck you. I’ll be fine. I didn’t need to come out here.”

  He stepped around the car and opened the door into the house for her. “Then why did you?”

  “Because…” The reason escaped her for a moment, lost on her while she stood in the doorway beneath the arch of Nick’s arm. “I had no choice.”

  “Fair enough. You want anything to drink? Tylenol? I have some with codeine around here you could use.”