“Lovely,” Sterling proclaimed. “Let’s get down to business. My booth, if you please.”
* * *
One of the best pieces of advice Father ever gave me was “never let them know you’re unnerved.” He spent years reinforcing that rule, and now, I could mask my emotions when I wanted. I vowed to call my father later and thank him, for his persistence.
As I stood, I gave Sterling a conspiratorial wink. Nick flinched ever-so-slightly, incapable of keeping his emotions off his face. I suspected he thought I knew how Sterling had managed what he’d just done. Having him on edge was perfect for garnering the information we needed.
We walked past Nick’s chattering groupies and sat in the back, corner booth.
“What information has he given?” Sterling asked me. His gaze, however, was firmly fixed on Nick.
As I recounted our earlier conversation to Sterling, Nick looked even more uneasy.
“So, Mr. Wright claims a minor witch who wanted to be his newest coven trollop went after the amulet while she was drunk on diluted dragon’s blood.” Sterling reflected and waited for Nick to respond. Nick nodded once, trying very hard to hold his gaze.
“She’s shown a talent for breaking wards and detecting traps.” Nick kept the volume of his voice low. “She’s even broken a few of my best wards. I challenged her to try the ones I put up around my vault and bed chamber, thinking she would fail and learn some humility. Instead, she broke them all, and I had to act like it was a test.”
“This was after you gave her the blood?”
“Yeah, of course.” Nick immediately replied.
“So, you gave her blood more than once,” Sterling declared. Nick paled a little more and began to speak, but the Consigliere gestured with his right index finger. Nick’s hands slammed down on the table, and he grunted with pain. Looking more closely, I saw that Nick was biting down to avoid making any further sounds. His body shook with the effort.
“That curious sensation you feel is your fingernails growing backward into your fingers, then hands, at a very accelerated speed,” Sterling said. His was smiling pleasantly, and there was no malice or menace in his voice. “They’ll continue growing through your palms and into the wood of the table, if I let them.”
Nick made a snorting, choking sound, and his body shook more noticeably.
“The young woman who died in Catherine’s office had no Magickal ability. All beings have a Magickal talent, so I believe she had such for destroying things. It’s the easiest of talents, after all. But very few beings can use Magick and focus energy naturally. Did you only give her dragon’s blood once, the night she died, or had you been giving her little nips here and there, building her up?”
“She’d been bugging me to join my coven.” Nick answered, sighing loudly. “She was willing to do whatever I demanded for the chance. She had no talent to speak of, like you said, but she was very eager. I gave her blood so she’d be able to do something Magickal for 24 hours. It was more of a lark than anything. I thought a night in jail or recovering from a zapping by C’s wards would bring her back to reality.”
“You probably told her it was your blood so she’d become even more of a groupie,” I said through a sneer.
“Yes, fine, I bullshit them, so they think I’m the reason their power increases. I do add my blood to the dragon’s blood, though.” Nick argued.
“Of course, you do. They don’t know the difference,” chided Sterling. “Also, dragon’s blood is hellishly expensive, so diluting it makes your supply go further.”
“Unless you know a willing subject,” I corrected. “Some of us don’t have to purchase dragon’s blood. That which is freely given is far more potent than anything you can purchase. Not that you’d know that, Nick. I doubt anything you’ve ever had was freely given.”
Nick seemed to be preparing an answer, but Sterling cut in.
“His blood isn’t strong enough to gain the worship he desires. He’s only human, and it’s only a minor mutation of an ancestor’s blood that allows him to control the energy. He rides on his charisma and cares for no one but himself, something that society has misinterpreted as strong character and being dynamic…or some similar idiocy.”
“His blood won’t give mundanes the appearance of being able to do Magick,” I reflected. “Giving mundanes dragon’s blood is against the laws. It has been so for several centuries. I’m surprised the High Council hasn’t tracked you down for doing it, Nick.”
The High Council was the ruling body of all Magickal things and beings. It was the ultimate coven, minus the Magickal bindings, and anyone with political aspirations desired to be part of it. My father was on the Council, but that was solely because it lacked the Magickal connotations of the typical coven. Although Dad was a part of it, he only took part in things that were of the utmost importance. He hated politics and was probably the most impartial person on the High Council.
“He gives them very little, I’ll warrant,” Sterling interjected. “I would guess no more than seven percent, with some hallucinogens added for the experience.”
Nick stared at Sterling, obviously shocked or startled.
“That’s exactly the mix, and I continuously swap the drugs to keep people thinking it’s a unique experience,” he confessed. “I give them four ounces of the mix in a goblet to drink.”
I figured the rest out. “The drugs and dragon’s blood are powders. You add your fresh blood to them, and you make a big production out of it to keep them from looking in the goblets beforehand! Damn, you got worse after I left.”
“I give people what they want. I never promise how long they’ll have it, or that it will be what they expected,” Nick said dismissively.
“I think it’s time we left. He has his fools to attend to, and I may kill him if we remain,” Sterling declared in a pleasant tone.
“Might be best,” I said in agreement. I paused before staring Nick dead in the eyes. “But before we leave, I have one last question. Have you done anything with the hiiri in the area?”
“The hiiri?” Nick blurted. His face paled, eyed opened as far as they could go. Immediately trying to compose himself, he looked toward his companions and said, “No. They don’t like me, and the feeling is mutual.”
I glanced at Sterling but didn’t say anything. Turning my gaze back to Nick, I waved my hand dismissively. “Go while you can, before I decide to drag you in front of the Council.”
He didn’t reply. He left as if we’d never been there. Once he reached the booth occupied by his groupies, there was no indication he’d had anything but a good time at the Clocktower.
“I get the distinct impression he knows something about the hiiri,” I murmured to Sterling.
“That may be, but it still does not make him guilty of the incident at your office,” Sterling replied.
“He admits he sent her to my office,” I stated. Tilting my head to the side, I met his brown eyes easily. “No one outside the Magickal community would have known about the amulet. It’s considered a myth, even within my mother’s Court. So, if he sent her to my office, it was to find something.”
“Are you saying your former pet idiot knows about your clients before they hire you, and about your personal interests?”
“I know some of his pets are working near my office in downtown Staunton,” I retorted. “Some actually have talent, and a few only look like humans.”
“Then I may need to take some time away from my normal schedule and investigate these minions of his and his business,” Sterling mused.
“At least you have something to do,” I reflected. “I’m back to square one on my office mystery. That’s all right—I ought to be concentrating on what you hired me for, anyway.” Silence filled the air for a few heartbeats before I asked, “Keep me informed about what you learn?”
Sterling gave me a small smile and nodded.
“Thanks,” I said as our waiter arrived with fresh beverages, and the entrees we ordered. I gestured towa
rd our food. “Shall we?”
“Indeed,” Sterling replied.
Maybe, I thought as I took a bite of my sirloin, working with Sterling would be more interesting than I’d originally thought. It was definitely off to a fun start.
* * * * *
Chapter Seven
Tuesday
I spent the rest of the night in intellectual conversation with Sterling, enjoying his companionship. That had been followed by a very restful, and surprisingly peaceful, night’s sleep.
I awoke at ten the next morning. After grabbing a shower, I checked my freshly-made potions to ensure they were aging properly, then departed for Richmond.
Just shy of two hours later, I walked into a small hole-in-the-wall diner. It was fairly rustic, but the food was good, and it happened to be my cousin’s favorite eatery. Technically, he was a distant cousin, since he descended from my maternal aunt who’d had a child around the time I was born.
“Hey, Cousin Cathy! Perfect timing,” a middle-aged voice, rough from decades of drinking and smoking, called out. The man behind the voice was seated at the far right end of the bar. He was dressed in the same somber, blue, pinstripe suit he always wore. He had to have at least seven of those suits, and with what he’d paid for them, he could have bought a nice, new minivan for a family of five.
“The cheese fries and drinks just arrived,” he went on and gestured at the appetizer basket in front of him. Nodding at the untouched glass of whiskey to his left (as well as the empty bar stool), he invited me to join him. I walked over and sat down.
“Piero Sollini! How is life treating you, Cousin?” I asked. When I picked up my whiskey glass, he clicked his against mine.
“Salut,” we said in chorus, then took long drinks.
“Ahhh,” Piero exhaled in contentment and smacked his lips. “Life is about as fine as this whiskey, my dear, and burns as much on occasion. Still, business is good, and my kids are behaving. What’s new with you?”
Swirling the whiskey around in my glass, I grinned mischievously at Piero. “Oh, you know me, always mixed up in something. This week’s entertainment comes from trying to locate some jewelry and its most recent owner.” I chuckled a bit before adding, “And someone was killed in the building where my office is located. I’m sure she was sent to do some snooping, but I’ve no clue she’s connected to the missing jewelry.”
“My father would have called that a pretty typical week for a gumshoe,” Piero replied, smiling broadly. “So, unless you’re getting bored, I take it you need something from me relating to one or both of these little mysteries?”
“I need to stop being so predictable,” I grumbled good-naturedly. “Ever hear of a company called Universal Manpower?”
Piero laughed.
“Yeah, my capo and my old man occasionally hire from that outfit. They started in 1971, and now, they’re nationwide,” Piero replied. “It’s a nice operation. Soldiers get new identities, social security numbers, histories, even credit scores to accompany their new names. The only real problem is, they have a pack mentality.”
“Does that mean they’ll all come after you, if you take one of them out, or that they hunt in groups and fight among themselves?” I asked, only half joking. “Is there a way to get a list of their clients? I’m pretty certain your capo and father aren’t involved in this particular caper.”
“Depends on why you take one out, and whether the contract was for your death,” answered Piero, not understanding the joke. “You might be able to get a client list from the company. We don’t deal with that or their books. We just hire them.”
He finished his whiskey in a long pull, then picked up a fry covered in cheese. Instead of eating it, he looked at it thoughtfully.
“I don’t like those people. Any job they get hired for? It’s work we shouldn’t be involved in,” Piero muttered, then popped the fry into his mouth.
One of the cooks walked over while I was formulating my answer.
“Another drink, amico?” asked the cook, who was average height, hefty, and bearded.
“No grazie. Voglio caffè,” Piero replied, taking another fry from the basket.
“Ovviamente,” said the cook. “Coming right up.”
“So,” I said quietly after the cook left to find the coffee pot. “These people do work you consider too dirty to do?”
“Mercenaries,” he rejoined. “They have no honor or guidelines other than ‘make money.’ Women and children, Cousin, should rarely be brought into business affairs. If a woman is in the business or the one in charge, that’s one thing. Even then, there are rules. And dammit, I don’t care if it’s old fashioned, there is a civil way to do the most unpleasant tasks. These for hire cretini? They start with breaking that ideology. Like the Russian syndicate, they are blunt instruments that consider themselves scalpels.”
“Okay. A young woman was abducted, should I worry for her safety?”
“Depends on what they’ve been hired to do,” Piero replied with a sigh. The cook brought a steaming cup of black coffee and left. Watching the cook walk away, Piero continued, “If her safe return isn’t part of the deal, she could wind up as merchandise in the skin trade or worse.”
I took a couple of fries and ate them. Although I didn’t have much of an appetite, the delicious food changed my mind.
“What’s on these fries?” I asked. “They’re amazing!”
“They’re cooked in duck fat. The cheese is a combo of cheddar, mozzarella, and asiago,” Piero explained with a smile. “Best I’ve ever had.”
“Best I’ve had, too,” I replied with a grin. Munching another fry, I tipped my head to the side. “So, how’s the family? Are the munchkins doing well in school?”
“Now that Alfred’s found a vocation he’s actually interested in, he’s doing great,” Piero replied happily. “Marie is bending college to her will—I don’t think the resident doctors know what’s hit them—and is set to start her residency next fall. Matthew and Michael,” he paused to take a sip of coffee, “I’m not sure if they’re doing good in school, or if they’ve intimidated the teachers into giving them high grades.”
I laughed.
“They miss you. You need to come visit more often,” Piero said.
“I know. As soon as I’m done with this mess, I’ll call your lovely wife and schedule a day to come over.”
“Make it a weekend; you stay over,” Piero insisted.
“Fine. The whole weekend,” I relented, but my smile reached my eyes.
“When are you going to have your own kids?” Piero asked. This wasn’t a question he asked often, maybe once a decade. “You’ll be a great mom. And don’t give me that ‘my work is not conducive to raising a child’ speech, either. We both have dangerous jobs. At least you can walk away or take a break from yours. Even if you take 30 years off, the work will still be there, waiting for you. Ha! And you probably wouldn’t look a year older, if that.”
Nuts, I thought. He’d listened to my arguments in previous conversations.
“I’ve offered to help with that,” I teased, hoping to distract him.
The look he gave me indicated, very plainly, he wasn’t going to be deterred. Time to come up with a new argument.
“In order to have a kid, I’d have to find someone worth having a kid with.” I paused and rolled my glass between my hands. There wasn’t a lot I didn’t talk to Piero about. He was like a little brother I could confess things to and not have to worry about him repeating them. He was incredibly intelligent and intuitive. In a softer voice, I admitted, “A child would also become a target. There are a lot of things out there that love an innocent who is full of Magick. There are also plenty who would try to use any child I’d have against me.”
“You think I don’t have similar concerns with my kids?” he countered. “Just because the Family quit dealing drugs and avoided the skin trade doesn’t mean they’re not the main source of income for many other syndicates and gangs. How many of those are enemi
es who’d love to put whole Italian families in their meth and whore houses? You can’t live your life in fear, Catherine. Not when the rewards are greater.”
“I’ve thought about it,” I admitted slowly. “I just haven’t been able to find anyone I’d consider for anything more than a fun fling.” I grimaced, thinking of Nick. “The last time I considered someone more than a fling, it bit me in the ass. The jerk used me for what I could bring him and his pathetic, little coven.”
Yeah, I didn’t have any hatred or disgust or grudge against Nick at all. I still needed to call Dad and tell him about Nick’s penchant for using dragon’s blood on mundanes. Maybe I’d get really lucky, and Dad would do something more than fine the asshole.
“I may not have been around when the first car or the first automatic center fire pistol were invented, like you were,” Piero rejoined, “but I know it’s stupid to presume everyone is going to be the same as a bad ex. Sounds more like you think the problem is you, or you want to avoid trying.”
He had me there.
“Sometimes I do wonder if it’s me,” I confessed. “Though, there is one who has me contemplating the idea of dating again.”
“Uh oh! Hope springs eternal!” He finished his coffee and raised the empty cup. “Hey, Tank! I need a real drink and a refill!”
“You got it!” the cook yelled back.
“It’s good to hear you haven’t given up on everything human and benevolent in this screwed up world,” Piero said with a smile.
He nudged me and insisted I eat more fries, so he didn’t have to buy larger clothing.
“Won’t do me any good to say I have to watch my girlish figure, will it?”
“Hell, no!” replied Piero, laughing. “I’ve watched you eat my weight in chocolate many times, and you’ve never been anything but tall and skinny. In the pretty way, of course.”
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