by Kelly Gay
He leaned back in the chair, swiveling to face me fully, looking about as enthused as a kid at a financial lecture. The dark shadow of his day-old beard gave him a haunted, rugged look that I found strangely appealing. His throat worked with his swallow and a faint blush crept from beneath the white collar of his shirt. “Just drop it, Charlie. We had an argument. I left, so she wouldn’t have to. End of story.”
I opened my mouth, so ready to argue the point, when he stopped me. “This”—he flung a hand toward the voice-mod on his neck—“doesn’t exactly help, okay? Now can we drop it?”
A frown screwed my face as I took a slow drink of my coffee. Surely Zara couldn’t be put off by the voice-mod being stuck on his neck. It wasn’t like it made him unattractive. Quite the opposite, in my opinion. The voice-mod made its wearer look like some throwback to Viking or Celtic times, when torcs hugged the thick necks of warriors and chieftains.
I slid into my chair and turned on my monitor, letting my curiosity go for now. “We need to talk to Ebelwyn, find out who owns the warehouse, and check out Daya’s work—might turn up something on her relationship … Pretty sure it wasn’t a jinn that killed her,” I said, my voice dropped to a mutter, “or any Charbydon for that matter.”
“What makes you say that?” Hank asked as I signed into the ITF database.
“Because I think it’s Llyran.” He scooted around the monitor in his chair, draping his arm across the corner of my desk. “You know, escaped serial killer. Lays low for a while. Adonai start disappearing and then found murdered.”
“I considered him, too. Stayed up last night reading his criminal file. The guy caused a lot of trouble in Elysia. Was officially banished from Elysia by the Adonai Council. Stole something big from the Hall of Records, wouldn’t reveal its location, was slated for execution, but killed his guards and fled. That was years ago.”
“What did he steal?”
“Officials never said. Then he gets here and starts killing. Indiscriminately. All races. Adonai, too. Every kill was unique. There’s no pattern that I can see. It almost seems like he was practicing, trying out different techniques and methods for murdering his victims, you know? The only reason he was caught before is because he didn’t try to be careful, or hide what he was doing. Didn’t care. Didn’t deny …” Hank sat back in his chair. “The guy’s a lunatic.”
Yeah. I could definitely attest to that.
“What’s the laugh for?”
“What?”
“You just gave a laugh.” Hank’s eyes narrowed. “A suspicious one.”
He wasn’t going to take this well, I knew, so I came right out with it. “Llyran broke into my house last night.”
Hank shot off the chair. “He what?”
“Mmm.” I took a sip from my mug. “Wrecked my bathroom, too. He didn’t hightail it back to Elysia after all. He’s been here the whole time. Said he killed our vics. He’s looking for something and seems to think I know where it is.”
“What is it?”
“I have no idea. I think he just wanted to show me how powerful he is, turn this into a game. Probably latched onto me when I saw him at Titus’s lab the first time.”
“Like he’s stalking you, you mean,” Hank said irritably, sitting back down.
“Could be. Who knows? The guy’s a Level Ten felon. Totally unpredictable. As you said, nearly impossible to profile. There’s no telling why he’s doing what he’s doing. He did mention a cause, though.”
“You think he’s our guy? That he’s not just taking credit?”
I chewed thoughtfully on the inside of my cheek, rolling around a pen on my desk. “Yeah, but I can’t shake the feeling that he isn’t alone in this. Whatever he’s doing seems grand. I don’t know. You had to be there.” I met my partner’s sober expression. “Something is different about him, about his power,” I began as evenly as I could even though my heart rate had kicked up. “He’s figured out a way to control the darkness.”
The color drained from Hank’s face.
“He summoned it, called it into my bathroom. He could’ve killed me, or taken me, but he didn’t …”
A low, astonished breath hissed through Hank’s lips. He rubbed a hand down his face. “And you’re okay? Em’s okay?”
“Everyone is fine. Brim ran him off. You know Emma can talk to him? Communicate with him?” The pride in my voice caught me off guard, especially after having been so overwhelmed by her revelation. Hank just stared at me, totally in a daze. “Yeah, I know, right? Welcome to the Madigan family, where strange is our middle name.”
He snorted softly. “You gotta stop with the bombshells this early in the morning. Don’t think my heart can take any more.”
“Well, lucky for you, that’s all I got.”
He rolled his chair back in front of his monitor, but I heard his muttered reply. “Trust me, that’s enough.”
10
Neither one of us had luck tracking the property records for the warehouse. And according to Ebelwyn’s receptionist, she didn’t know who had asked him to list the property for sale or even the whereabouts of her boss—he hadn’t shown up for work, and he wasn’t answering calls or his front door.
Unfortunately for us, the one person who had his finger on the pulse of Underground and could probably tell us Ebelwyn’s whereabouts was the person I only wanted to see again if it was through a pair of cold cell bars or down the nozzle of my Nitro-gun. Grigori Tennin.
At least it’s not raining. I tried to look at the bright side as I jogged down the concrete steps that led to the main plaza in Underground and then proceeded at a sharp clip over the old brick pavers, past the fountain, heading to the shop fronts along the head of Solomon Street. They were crowded with inventory, packed inside and out. Peddlers set up shop wherever they could find space, often in the middle of the street or lurking from the alley shadows.
Once you turned onto Solomon Street, though, the old-fashioned streetlamps became dimmer, the glass covered in soot and grime from the open-air fires and the system of underground tunnels, caves, and homes dug straight beneath the street by the jinn, who preferred living within the earth. Peddlers pushed carts full of food, stones, spells, herbs, and snacks. It was like walking through a dark, otherworldly kasbah in the heart of Cairo.
It had to be pushing ninety degrees, and the choked, crowded atmosphere only made it seem hotter. The smells here were intense, too—earthy and humid, filled with the scents of meats, body odor, smoke, and the distinct scent of tar, which signified a large jinn population.
We weaved our way down the street, aware of the violet eyes that glowed dimly from the darkness. From the moment we entered Charbydon territory, the jinn tracked our movement. They ruled Solomon Street, and I’d guess right about now, Grigori Tennin was being told of our arrival.
We’d planned on invading the Lion’s Den, Grigori’s headquarters at the dead end of the street, but halfway down Solomon, two jinn warriors in battle regalia—Grigori’s personal female guard—stepped out from the shadows. My hand rested casually on the hilt of my weapon as we approached. The female warriors were as dangerous as the males. They were tall, muscular, with the same smooth, sooty gray skin and vicious tempers. The only difference (besides gender) was that the females had hair where the males were completely bald. And who knows, they might’ve been pretty, in an Amazon sort of way, if not for the scowls.
“Girls,” I greeted once we were close enough to speak.
They ignored my sarcasm. “Grigori is not here,” one of them said.
Hank shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced around the crowded street. “And I don’t suppose you know where he is at the moment.”
One of them smirked.
On any other occasion, I would’ve pressed the issue, but after the morning I’d had, I was a little relieved to not have to deal with Tennin. “Tell him we’ll be by later.” I did a one-eighty and wound my way back through a thick patch of carts and crates.
Hank ca
ught up and grabbed my arm from behind. It was too congested to walk side by side. “What gives, Madigan?”
“Tennin’s not going to give us the info we need.” I sidestepped a small jinn boy racing after a stray cat with a homemade bow.
“If it benefits him in some way, he would.”
“And if it doesn’t—no, thank you,” I told the spell-monger opening his coat to reveal vials of colored liquids, “we’re out of luck. We won’t find Ebelwyn or those missing property records.” A space opened up, allowing Hank to fall in step next to me. “His office is up ahead.” I pointed. “I say we stop in and look for some property.”
“Ah,” he began in understanding. “Maybe a nice villa on the coast. Always wanted to be on a cliff by the sea.” I rolled my eyes and glanced over to find him grinning like an idiot. “A little siren joke for ya.”
I picked up speed and darted between two large stalls selling an assortment of Charbydon fruit and vegetables, and ended up on the other side of the street. I could feel Hank right behind me. A few more dodges and, avoiding a raging fire barrel, I stepped back onto the sidewalk, went a few steps, and then immediately dodged into the alley next to Darkling Properties and Rentals. The sign said it was closed. The main room was dark, but a glance at the apartment over the shop showed a small light coming from the window. I knew that Ebelwyn lived over his shop, just like my sister and many other shop owners.
“Back escape,” Hank said, heading farther down the narrow alley.
The brick walls closed in on us as we went. The smell back here was terrible, reeking of strong ammonia—urine of a gargoyle, a few stray cats, and probably a few off-world races taking leaks on the wall if I had to guess. In short, it was lovely, but it was this loveliness that kept the alleys vacant of most folks.
A one-lane street ran along the back of the shops and apartments, used for deliveries, dumpsters, and God knew what else. But by the looks of things, I’d say it was mostly landfill, dumping ground, extra storage … I glanced up at the fire escape. “This shouldn’t be too difficult,” I decided as Hank reached up and grabbed the stepladder to pull it down.
I glanced down the back alley, but all I got was steam from restaurants, a lot of shadows, and noise carried in from the street. Hank and I hurried up the ladder and onto Ebelwyn’s landing. The window wasn’t locked and it didn’t take long for us to duck into his apartment, get our bearings, and search the rooms.
The light I’d seen from the street came from a small office where a heat lamp had been placed over the aquarium of a moon snake, its bioluminescent skin emitting a soft, glowing white light. It was a small one, curled up against a rock. I leaned down and tapped the glass. The thing lifted its head and lunged at the glass so fast, I leapt back. “Jesus!”
“Cute, aren’t they?” Hank came around the desk and opened one of the side drawers.
An involuntary shiver ran through me. The glowing white snake was at the glass, half its body raised, weaving back and forth, its cobra-like hood edged in a crown of sharp bony points extended in a sign of aggression. “Yeah.” I moved to the other side of the desk to pull open a drawer. “Real cute.”
“Not venomous, though. These look like work files. Names. Addresses.”
I scanned the file tabs in the drawer on my side. “Taxes, bills, manuals …”
“Hold up.” Hank pulled a file from the drawer. “Tennin.”
I came around the desk to the sound of the moon snake thumping its nose on the glass.
Weave, weave, thump. Weave, weave, thump.
Goose bumps sprouted along my arms, but it wasn’t the snake’s neurotic thumping; I had a bad feeling as Hank laid the file on the desk and opened it. “It’s Tennin’s holdings. All of his properties. Christ, Charlie. He owns the warehouse.”
Weave, weave, thump.
I stood next to my partner, scanning the paper until I found the warehouse address. “Looks like he owns two warehouses in the district.” Hank grabbed a notepad from Ebelwyn’s desk and wrote down the other address as I bit the inside of my cheek. “So,” I began, thinking out loud, “could be coincidence. Tennin owns a lot of properties and businesses. Or he’s involved. Or he knows what’s happening, knows someone has been dumping bodies on his property.”
Weave, weave, thump.
“Hell, Charlie,” Hank said, “Tennin could’ve sent Ebelwyn to the warehouse knowing what the guy would find. He’d know Ebelwyn would call you and not the ITF. He either did us a huge favor, letting us know there’s a killer on the loose, or he’s involved in some way and wants us involved, too.”
Weave, weave, thump.
Hank let out a sigh and went to the aquarium, searching the table until he found a round Tupperware container. “It’s just hungry. Who knows the last time it ate.” The moon snake dropped down and began circling beneath the feeding portal as Hank opened the lid of the Tupperware, grabbed a small pair of plastic tongs off the table, and withdrew a small, gray lump.
“What is that?” It looked like a newborn rat covered with gray skin so translucent you could see the organs beneath, and it was covered in what I guessed to be some kind of preservative.
Hank turned the lock to the aquarium lid. “It’s a nithyn fetus.” He held up the fetus with the tongs to show me. “See the wings? They’re like bat wings, but these little guys grow to the size of a goat. The females lay dozens in the Charbydon sand flats. Moon snakes love them.” Hank eased the lid open just wide enough to drop the nithyn inside. The moon snake’s hood shot out and it attacked the dead fetus with a frenzy that made me look away.
The remainder of our search through Ebelwyn’s apartment turned up zilch. There were no signs he’d packed up and left, no signs of a break-in or struggle, nothing to suggest he’d gone missing. The initial discovery of Grigori Tennin’s ownership of our crime scene and a second warehouse on the same street was all we had to go on, and as soon as the jinn boss came back to Solomon Street, we’d be paying him a visit.
Hank went down the fire escape ladder first. My vantage point two stories up allowed me to see far in both directions of the back alley, but the steam vents, dumpsters, and other clutter made for some pretty nice cover. As I went down the ladder, I had the very distinct sense of being watched, and it was most likely by one or two of Grigori Tennin’s goons.
Oh well. What were they going to do? Call the ITF on us?
Once my feet hit the pavement in the back alley and Hank had pushed up the fire escape ladder, my cell rang. “Madigan.” I glanced around, noticing my partner was doing the same and guessing he’d also felt the “eyes” on us.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah? Who’s this?”
“It’s Orin. Daya’s brother.”
“Orin,” I said to clue Hank in. All his attention zeroed in on me. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve been going through Daya’s things.” Orin cleared his throat. “I found an address. The client she was freelancing for when she died. There was a meeting time written down for last week. I don’t know … I thought it might be useful …”
“That’s very useful.” I motioned to Hank for a pen. He pulled one out of the inside breast pocket of his jacket along with the same piece of paper we’d taken from Ebelwyn’s apartment. “What’s the address?”
“It’s a penthouse in Helios Tower. The name is S. Yavesh. That’s all there is, except the date and time.”
“Great. Thanks, Orin. We’ll check it out.”
After I hung up and put my cell phone back on my hip, I handed the paper and pen back to Hank and started walking down the narrow alley. Hank read the address. “That’s no jinn love nest,” he said, echoing my thoughts. “Helios Tower is occupied by Elysians mostly and some humans.”
“Yeah.” I glanced behind me, still unable to shake the feeling of being watched. “But Helios Tower has terrace apartments just like Daya told us …”
It was a fifteen-minute walk from Solomon Street, across the plaza, and down Helios Alley where
the street dead-ended into the swanky underground lobby of Helios Tower, which housed a bar, two restaurants, and a spa. We took the elevator one floor up to the Topside lobby. A good part of the tower was made up of hotel rooms and then apartments and penthouses, mostly owned or rented by Elysians.
We entered the Topside lobby, a beautiful space of windows and light, white marble floors, mosaic wall tiles flecked with silver and gold, and plants, lots and lots of plants. Very serene and very Elysian.
“May I help you?” the clerk at the desk asked as we approached. Human. Male.
I pulled out my badge. “Looking for the apartment of an S. Yavesh.”
“One moment, please.” The clerk typed the name into his keyboard. “Mister Yavesh lives in one of the penthouses on the east wing. Forty-sixth floor. Number eight. Would you like me to ring him?”
“Please,” Hank said.
The clerk set the phone down a few seconds later. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s no answer.”
“Get a key.” Hank’s eyes scanned the lobby.
The clerk turned and selected the key from the locked vault behind him, then fiddled with it for a moment, unsure. “Don’t you need a warrant?”
Hank returned his attention to the clerk, expression completely bland, but his voice so damn compelling. “No, but you really want to help us.”
Sometimes I loved my partner.
The clerk frowned, seeming stumped by the tone and the steady gaze that Hank was giving him. It flustered the guy enough that he didn’t have any comeback, but he did come out from behind the counter and lead us to the elevator.
Helios Tower wasn’t the tallest building in Atlanta, but it had terraces, and if Daya had died on one like her vision suggested, we had a good shot at finding evidence and, hopefully, tracking Llyran. There was no telling what awaited us.
I pulled my Nitro-gun as we approached the door.
“Should I knock first?” the clerk asked.
“No. Just open it. Quietly.” I cupped my gun hand, taking position by the door. “Stay out here, no matter what happens.”
