“I don’t suppose you remember our conversation from the weekend?” he asked.
No, I didn’t, and I stuck my water bottle in my bag unconcerned about it. “Conversation?”
“At the pub.”
Oh, that. I hadn’t thought we’d talked long enough to consider it a conversation. “Yes, I remember. What’s up?”
“Just that I hear you’re pronouncing the satyrs innocent of the recent string of F-related deaths. True?”
My computer finished shutting down, so I swung my bag onto my shoulder. Tom wasn’t part of what I was getting paid to do. I felt no need to hang around late because he wanted to be creepy and invasive. “Not quite. I don’t think the F is tainted. That’s all.”
“But you’re willing to trust the satyrs.” He started toward the elevator with me.
“I’m trusting my own judgment. How do you know so much about this case anyway? Don’t you have furies to investigate?”
“With preds, more is connected than you might imagine. I thought perhaps you needed another reminder that it’s unwise to put your faith in the satyrs, regardless of your friendships.”
I jabbed the elevator button. “I don’t have faith in anything or anyone. But if I need a life coach, I’ll find you. I know what I’m doing.”
“I hope so.”
Smug, condescending, nosy, paranoid bastard. I hopped into the elevator without a word. When I got the chance, I should totally take a second peek around his office. Just on the principle that he pissed me off, and I wanted to be as nosy right back.
But not tonight. Having finally gotten to do my exchange with Rik, I had plans to meet with Bee and finish our deal. It had dragged on long enough, and I was sure I wasn’t the only person eager to complete the transaction.
I met her at the amphitheater again, after stopping at home to pick up my knife and my scarf. Traces of blue still streaked across the sky as I sat on a bench looking out into the Charles. Normally, I waited until full dark for this sort of business, but I’d been forced to wake up early the last couple days, and I needed to continue my questioning in Shadowtown later. I couldn’t keep nocturnal hours.
With my hair wrapped in a scarf and sunglasses on, I felt comfortable enough. Besides, all I had to do was tell Bee it was done, accept some money and be gone. It was my last deal, and I’d no longer have evidence on me of doing anything illegal.
I should have known something would go wrong.
I waved to Bee when I saw her, and she approached cautiously at first. I had to pat the bench to get her to sit. She was dressed much like last time—leggings, ballet flats, unflattering dress. It was so not my style, but nonetheless I felt very mannish next to her in my jeans and sneakers.
“Is it done?” she whispered.
I handed her the piece of tape with her name on it. “It’s done.”
“Oh, my God.” The tape trembled, stuck to her fingers.
Then she burst into tears.
Dragon shit on toast. I did not do well with crying. All I wanted was to get my money and get out of here, go to The Lair and continue my private investigation of Angelia’s potential enemies. Yet even I had the social graces not to ask a crying woman to discuss payment.
Not immediately anyway. So I sat there uncomfortably until she collected herself, trying not to fidget.
“You have no idea…” She gazed at the tape like it was a thing of magic, then tore it into pieces. “I haven’t been able to sleep or eat.”
Given how tiny she already was, that couldn’t be healthy. “Well, it’s over, and you’ll never do that again, so lesson learned.”
Bee moaned. “But it’s not over. I have to live with myself, knowing what I did. I’m an awful human being.”
Oh, brother. I was glad for the sunglasses because she couldn’t see me roll my eyes. “Look, you feel bad. Trust me when I say that puts you ahead of ninety percent of the people who have been in your situation. Awfulness is relative. You got jealous, you cursed a rival. It happens.”
“But she was innocent. She’s not even a rival. I don’t dislike her and I did this anyway.” Bee pulled out a tissue and sniffed into it.
“Wait, I thought you cursed another dancer who was your director’s undeserved favorite?”
She crumpled the tissue. “I did, but it wasn’t because I hate her. It was because I hate him. I wanted her to screw up her big performance and teach him a lesson. He knows she’s not as good, but he favors her because he wants her to sleep with him.”
I propped my elbows on my knees, contemplating. “So you cursed the dancer to take down the director instead of cursing him directly. Why not curse him directly?”
“Because I wanted to humiliate him, not hurt him. I thought it would serve him right to have to answer for her failure. I wanted to be there for it, to watch him squirm when the Board confronted him. I hoped they’d fire him.” The venom in her voice suggested her guilt didn’t extend as far as the director’s well-being.
“That’s actually kind of brilliant. No one would suspect you had something against the dancer because you get along, so if someone got suspicious about a curse, it wouldn’t be as likely to get traced back to you. They wouldn’t see who your real target was. They’d assume the curse was planted by a jealous rival and miss the real motive entirely.”
Bee’s eyes widened. “I never thought of that.”
I snapped my jaw shut, realizing I’d been rambling. “Probably not, but it gives me an idea. You’ve been very helpful.”
“I have?”
“Yup.” I bounded up, my urge to get back to Shadowtown twice as strong. “Let’s call that your fee. That, and no more cursing if you can’t live with the consequences because I’m officially no longer in the soul-swapping business.”
“Oh?” Bee gasped, her tissue clasped to her mouth.
I have no idea how long she gawked at me because I was off and running to the nearest T stop. I needed to have a conversation with Lucen stat.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Misery’s sheath smacked my thigh as I jogged down the street to The Lair. Cursing, I shifted it to a better position. If only it weren’t so practical to carry a knife around. I missed my old life, the one that didn’t make me feel vulnerable when I was unarmed.
Only a couple satyrs sat outside The Lair, smoking nasty-smelling cigars. I hurried by, trying not to breathe. As I entered the bar, Aerosmith greeted my ears, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t noticed the background music in a long time. Usually it was too crowded.
Too bad it wasn’t tonight. I preferred the cover all those extra voices provided.
I took my favorite stool at the far end, two seats down from a couple harpies. Fortunately, they were deep in the own conversation and didn’t pay me any mind. Paulius appeared in front of me a moment later.
I ordered coffee and asked him to turn one of the TVs to the Sox game. They were playing in Seattle, so it was just about to start. “Where’s Lucen?”
“Taking a break. I’m guessing he’ll be down soon once he realizes you’re here.”
I took a large sip and burnt my tongue. “Do my emotions really stand out that much?”
Paulius chuckled. “Not to me. You’re just another human.”
“So how come Lucen can pick me out of a crowd? Devon too?” I added, remembering that he’d been able to recognize me through various disguise charms.
Paulius took his time answering but seemed to be giving it some thought. He kept an eye on me as he refilled drinks for the harpies. “Could be a few reasons,” he said when he returned. He rested his arms on the bar, leaning in close. “Lucen and Devon have a lot of power. They might be better at that sort of thing. Or it might be because they’ve spent a lot of time with you.”
“I’ve hardly spent a lot of time with Devon.”
The bartender grinned
. “Then it could also be because they both like you. We notice things about the people we like that we don’t notice about others.”
Paulius got called away, leaving me to ponder. His first explanation sounded the most likely. For Devon anyway. I supposed any of them could apply to Lucen.
As predicted, he entered the bar soon after my conversation with Paulius ended. “Any more luck convincing the Gryphons?”
“Nope. But I had a meeting with my client before I came here, and she inadvertently gave me an idea.” I lowered my voice. “What if Angelia isn’t the target? I mean, what if someone’s trying to frame her, but it’s nothing personal? What if Dezzi is the real target?”
Lucen stole a sip of my coffee. “How would that work?”
I explained my client’s twisted motive for buying a curse. “If someone has a grudge against Dezzi and knows she’s close to Angelia, maybe they’d go after Angelia to hurt her? Dezzi’s a Dom. It would take a lot of power or some serious balls to make a direct play at her.”
“True. It would be hard to hurt Dezzi, but then why bother framing Angelia? Why not just kill her?”
“I don’t know.”
Lucen started to say something else, but someone behind me caught his attention. I twisted around in my seat and saw Devon and Lucrezia weaving through the tables. Devon grabbed an empty booth, but Lucrezia came our way.
“Lucen, can you send our usuals over, then join us a moment? Devon and I would like to have a brief meeting.” She absently spun a silver bracelet around her wrist as she eyed me. “Here again, pet? You’re always underfoot these days.”
“Better get used to it. I’m moving in down the street.” I’d gotten the message from the landlord on my way to The Lair. He’d approved me for the apartment.
Lucrezia’s red lips parted in surprise. “We’re letting Gryphons move in? This neighborhood is really going downhill. No offense, pet.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you meant none. And I’m not a Gryphon.”
Lucrezia didn’t look convinced, and she returned to Devon. Lucen, however, slid an arm around me. “This is a good thing for us, right?”
I nodded since it was impossible to hide my anxiety. Not living with Lucen meant not seeing his addicts. Not seeing his addicts meant I could ignore the problem.
Now was that the best way to handle things? Undoubtedly not. It would have to do, though, until we had a better solution or until I could face the possibility of breaking up.
When I thought about it, I also thought about what Angelia had told me. If Lucen was taking such risks to be with me, I owed it to him—to us—to find another way. I just didn’t know what would make me okay with everything.
Lucen wandered over to Devon and Lucrezia, and I drank my coffee, watched the game and considered his very valid question about my new theory. A small mirror behind the bar advertised vodka, and every now and then I caught their table in the reflection.
So this was Dezzi’s inner triad. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but Lucrezia, I was pleased to note, acted as haughty with the men as she did with me. Still, she had to be pretty damn powerful to have made the group. They all had to be, and yet there was so little I knew about any of them. Even Lucen. Maybe that was where I needed to start with our relationship. Talk to him. Really talk to him. Not about the superficial topics or work-related crap like we usually did, but about his past and about the things that mattered.
In other words, all those topics he frequently tried to avoid even as he teased me for my ignorance about his life and what it meant to be a satyr.
We could start, too, by him explaining how powerful he really was and what the point of the triad was versus the entire council. I was sick of living in the dark. How many addicts did he have? How had he gotten on Dezzi’s council? Did he want to be a Dom someday?
Huh. Did he want to be a Dom?
I pressed my fingertips together, replaying the question in my head. Lucen was only a third. High-ranking, but he had a ways to go. But what about Devon?
A light clicked on in my brain. I pulled my phone out so I could make some notes as I worked through this idea.
Lucen returned a few minutes later, and I put the phone away. “Everything okay?”
“Oh yeah, you know.” He shrugged, but didn’t look happy. “Satyr business. You’re excited about something.”
“I had a thought about your question.”
“Yeah? So did I.” He grabbed the stool next to me. “You might be on to something. Doms have a lot of enemies, and we in particular have a lot of enemies at the moment because of what happened with Victor. Something is going on within the furies—that’s what we were meeting about. It’s something big, but no one knows what. Plus, we’ve got the sylphs seriously pissed off for related reasons. But if this is about revenge on us—either to get to Dezzi or to make us all look bad—then it’s going to be a lot of work to track down who’s responsible.”
I lowered my head because Devon and Lucrezia were still here. “True, and that would be bad. But I had a different thought that might be easier to investigate. What if the threat to Dezzi is internal?”
Lucen looked at me askew. “If it’s an internal threat, little siren, I think it’s more likely someone’s after Angelia. Your original theory.”
“But this someone could have both. Maybe Angelia is the cause and the means.”
“Explain.”
I braced myself for inevitable objections. “It sounds like Dezzi might be making some decisions that aren’t popular. She lets Angelia in. She backs you when you put me under your protection during the Victor shit. She gives the okay for me to move in although I’m consulting for the Gryphons. Someone might think she’s making all the satyrs appear weak.”
“It’s possible.” The lines around his eyes suggested it was more. He’d probably heard grumblings of the sort.
“Okay, so our murderer goes after Angelia for two reasons. One, if she’s framed and arrested or killed as a result, then one of the image problems you have is removed. Two, her alleged guilt reflects badly on Dezzi. Killing Angelia wouldn’t have that effect. But framing her—now Dezzi didn’t just let a damaged satyr into your group. She let in a damaged satyr who turned out to be a murderer. Bad, incompetent Dezzi. At that point, could she lose her position as Dom?”
Lucen exhaled heavily. “The Upper Council would probably take note, yeah, especially if someone here petitioned them to do so. It wouldn’t be good for her. Where are you going with this? You have someone in mind. I can tell.”
I clamped my mouth shut as I saw the very person I was thinking of approach in the mirror.
“Lucrezia’s going to drive me mad one day.” Devon dropped his glass off at the bar. “I’m going to work so I can have some peace and quiet.”
“I thought the club was closed tonight,” Lucen said.
“It is, hence the peace and quiet. Plus, I’ve got stuff to do.” Devon winked at me. “How come you don’t stop by my bar this often, Jess?”
I forced a smile. “Too many wards.”
“Funny, I didn’t think they bothered you.” With that, he left.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Lucrezia watching him. Her typical sour face was unusually contemplative. “Devon,” I said to Lucen.
“What about him?”
I played with my empty beer glass. Saying his name aloud made my mouth dry. I guessed some part of me had liked him because I felt sad accusing him. “That’s who I have in mind for being behind everything.”
“No way.”
I grabbed his wrist to prevent him from leaving so fast. “Think about it. Devon owns Purgatory. We can tie two of the three sets of victims there. It’s a major hangout for people buying and selling F, and people get temporary charms there all the time—a fact he very conveniently forgot to mention when I asked him about the glyph—and therefore it wo
uld be real easy for him to draw a curse on someone instead.”
“Lots of satyrs go to Purgatory, little siren.”
“But not lots of satyrs stand to directly benefit if Dezzi is no longer Dom. You’re the one who told me Devon is as powerful as she is, and that he’s overdue for his own domus. Wouldn’t he step into her place if she got booted?”
Lucen removed himself from my grasp and walked to the other side of the bar. He set two shot glasses down and poured us each a drink. “He would, but you’re going down the wrong path. I promise you.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because Devon is extremely loyal to Dezzi. She’s the one who turned him. When Dezzi was promoted to take over the Boston domus, he followed her all the way from England. There’s no way.”
I downed the drink, hoping it would relax my stomach. “People’s loyalties change. The more you trust and respect someone, the more deeply you might feel their betrayal if they start doing things that you believe are wrong.”
“Not this, Jess. You have some good ideas, but this… I don’t buy it.”
I sighed. Of course he didn’t. Devon was his friend, and Lucen was also loyal. But I knew someone who would hear me out. Someone with whom I finally had a theory and a motive that I could share. “Okay, fine. But I think I’m on to something. I need some fresh air and a walk so I can think more.”
Lucen kissed my hand. “Be careful.”
“Always.” I patted my knife, but I had a feeling his comment was in reference to what I was pondering, not where I was going.
When I stepped outside, the cigar-smokers had gone. Thank dragons for fresh air. I paused on the steps to street level, getting out my phone, and was passed by Lucrezia who was doing the same. She murmured “Underfoot” as she walked around me.
I murmured “Bitch” back.
Andre picked up on the third ring, and I leaned against a lamppost about fifty feet from The Lair. A couple pred restaurants nearby had outdoor seating, leaving no good spot for a private conversation. In retrospect, I should have gone upstairs to Lucen’s for this call. Since it was too late now, I simply hoped the traffic would suffice for cover.
Dirty Little Misery (Miss Misery) Page 24
