Sergei Yaroshenko.
Chapter 6
My head rang all the way back to Strange Kitty. I knew, intellectually, that there was no possible reason for Sergei to target Levental. I hadn’t even gone to him for information specifically about the Organizatsiya, and I wasn’t the only person who found him useful. Levental was part of our network of Sixers, and he was like Switzerland: agreed neutral territory. My common sense also told me that nothing was guaranteed in regards to people holding men like the Doctor sacrosanct, but… no. It could have been the Manellis. He’d been digging around on Celso, after all, but I trusted the Doctor’s discretion and methods. No one had pulled him up in fifty years of providing services to the underworld.
I was getting paranoid and vain, trying to loop every uncommon event back to myself. Common sense told me it probably wasn’t anything to do with me. If – and it was a huge ‘if’ – Levental had been given a ticket by the Organizatsiya or the Manellis, it was far more likely it had something to do with the change in leadership. Mafia restructuring is very similar to corporate restructuring, in that it’s mostly pointless, ego-driven bullshit that enriches and empowers the very few at the expense of those lower on the food chain. Mafia instability tends to result in just as many lost jobs as a corporate takeover, but a lot more work for the city’s morgues. Nicolai was currently in an awkward position as Avtoritet. Sergei was breathing down the back of his neck and Vanya was in custody, probably squealing about everything he knew. If he’d decided to take out the Doctor, that was the most likely reason. Remove possible weak links: it was one of the first lessons you learned operating in the Organizatsiya.
That’s what common sense said. My intuition didn’t agree. It told me that they’d somehow learned that he had helped break up the child trafficking gig, and that I needed to leave New York City for everyone’s sakes - and soon.
When I turned into the dirt parking lot that divided the bikers’ clubhouse from the back of Strange Kitty, I saw an unfamiliar car already parked outside the garage entry. Dark charcoal gray, sleek, tinted windows, interchangeable government fleet license plate... it stuck out like a sore thumb among the motorcycles and stacks of tires and parts. I frowned as I got out and brushed down my clothing with absent hands on my way to the door. When I passed by the strange car, it hummed with magic that beat against my skin as I passed by... a ripple of warning heat.
My suspicion was confirmed when I entered the garage common room and saw it emptied of the usual crowd of bikers - human and not - and Club associates. Instead, on the ratty sofa sat the woman who matched the vehicle outside. Special Agent Ayashe Richardson had the build of a triathlete and the sanctimonious air of royalty. She was in a pantsuit today, the creases sharp enough to shave with, her long falls pulled back into a high ponytail. She was a rhinoceros shifter, an Elder like Jenner. Unlike Jenner, she was a pain in my ass, musora bought and paid for by the government.
“Welcome to the party, Rex.” Jenner was standing behind the bar with a bottle of Jack Daniels by her elbow and a full glass in her hand. “As you can see, we’re having a blast here. You know a drink won’t kill you, Ayashe.”
“And you know that I don’t want to go back to the field office stinking of booze,” Ayashe replied. “Because I literally just told you.”
Jenner rolled her eye, singular.
“What’s the occasion?” Acting cool around the police was an artform, and one I’d had a whole lifetime to perfect. I went to the bar and took a stool, putting myself between the two of them, and immediately noticed the smell of old ...and new... booze. My mouth went dry, and I frowned.
“You,” Ayashe said. “I’ve been told to speak with you.”
“Told?” I tried not to look over at the rows of bottles. Instead, I arched an eyebrow, sitting side-on to her with one elbow on the counter, the other loose by the open lapel of my jacket. “You don’t sound pleased about it.”
“I’m not, but that’s not really relevant to the situation at hand.”
“By whom?”
Ayashe’s lips quirked unhappily. “My boss. That’s all I’m saying.”
Curious. I glanced at Jenner, who shrugged. “Well, I’m here. Go on.”
Ayashe sighed. “First up: this talk is off the books. Period. If anyone asks you anything about this, neither of us were here. In fact, anything that deals with you or Jenner is stuff that never happened, alright? The Agency is really unhappy with last month’s body count.”
“I’m not thrilled about it either, Sparky,” Jenner said, her tone suddenly very dark and stiff. “So maybe the Agency should stop cocking up before they make judgments on shit they have no business being upset about?”
“Jenner.” Ayashe’s voice also dropped. “This isn’t helping. We need some privacy. Come on, Rex, let’s go out back.”
“No,” I said.
Ayashe hadn’t been expecting the flat refusal. She’d already moved to rise.
“I’m not going off in private with you anywhere,” I replied. “Not after you tried to arrest me over nothing in the Smithsonian. No.”
“Kapow. Right on the money.” Jenner clicked her tongue and pointed at her with thumb and forefinger, like a pistol. “You’re gonna have to live with discretion, girl. I’m the Malek-Kab of this state, and Rex is one of my people. Damned if I’m letting the Feds speak to him without a referee.” Jenner waved the bottle of Jack in my direction. “You want a drink, Rex?”
My mouth itched with the same bizarre craving I’d felt in the hotel, but stronger. Much stronger. I swallowed against the nasty sour taste in the back of my throat. “Maybe… one shot of something citrusy, in seltzer water?”
Jenner was slightly taken aback. “Jeez, I wasn’t expecting you to take me up. Marnier and water, coming right up.”
“Don’t make it too strong,” I said.
Ayashe didn’t look happy to have Jenner push her way into the meeting, but then, she rarely looked happy about anything. “Then you’re liable as well, Jenner. This is sensitive information.”
Jenner slid me my drink when it was done, then took a swig off the bottle of Jack. She thumped her chest and burped. “Just as well I’m a sensitive lady, right?”
“Jesus.” Ayashe sighed again, and fixed her eyes on me. “Fine. A Vigiles Agent was murdered night before last. The murderer...” she paused, trailing off as she gathered her words. “The body shows signs of torture.”
I shifted on the stool as adrenaline jolted from heart to hands. An FBI Agent had been murdered, and they’d come to me? I began running through my mental catalog of words of power. I could probably get a spell off faster than she could clap a pair of cuffs on me. “I’m very sorry to hear it.”
“They left a calling card,” Ayashe said. “’Soldier 557’. Remember him?”
The growing tension in my chest ebbed a little, and I frowned. “The Templum Voctus Sol’s hitman.”
“We never caught him, but not for lack of trying.” Ayashe crossed her ankle over her other knee, wagging her foot in agitation. “The guy’s a goddamn ghost, and now he’s hit one of our people. We don’t know why, we don’t know how. He dismantled her physical and magical security, got in and out of her house, and no one heard a goddamned thing.”
“Fuck,” Jenner said. “I’m sorry, Ayashe.”
“You figured out this psycho’s coded bullshit the last time. The regular consultants available to the agency just aren’t turning up anything we can use,” Ayashe said to me. “I put in a good word for your skills.”
This was some kind of setup. It had to be. Only fairly recently, she’d tried to spontaneously arrest me under RICO and failed to intimidate me enough to pull it off. Ayashe had been polite ever since I’d laid down my life to help rescue most of the surviving kids, but her crossed arms, crossed legs, her woodenness... I wasn’t convinced. She wanted to get me alone so she could separate me from the protection offered by Jenner’s people. Besides that, I had ethical issues working with the police on
anything... though the mystery of Soldier 557 had been nagging at me. That, I couldn’t deny.
I made a show of bringing the drink to my lips while I weighed up how much she knew of me. I’d intended to just wet my lip, but before I really thought about what I was doing, I pulled a mouthful and swallow. It was… hot. Red/violet, and oddly refreshing. I grimaced, shaking my head, and pushed the rest of the glass away. “I’ll consider it, but I don’t work for free. I also want a written contract, signed and dated. We each get a copy and burn it at the end of-”
“Nuh-uh.” Ayashe interrupted me. “No way. There’s no way that’ll fly.”
Who the fuck does this musor’ think she is? A thrill of anger lifted my pulse. I felt my eyes harden as I leaned toward her, hands laced between my knees. “Then go find a putz willing to work without a safety net. You’re the one looking for the contractor, so you either hire me on my terms, or you take a hike.”
“I’m not in a position to make this official,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m the middle-man, okay? You should be grateful that it’s off the books and the Agency isn’t digging up dirt on you.”
I scoffed, and turned back to get my drink. “You, or your Agency, don’t know a damn thing about me. What are they going to dig up? My parking tickets? The only reason you’re treating me this way is because you know I’m a magus.”
“You admitted to working for the Russian Mafia, asshole. To a federal investigator.”
“No. I told you that I knew people in there and could get you some information. Everyone who grows up in Brighton Beach knows someone involved with the Bratva. Are you in a gang just because you grew up in The Bron
Rolling her eyes, she threw up her hands in exasperation. “The heads of the Agency don’t give a damn about the difference, and you know it. If they really want to press you, they’ll press you. So maybe consider compromising a little?”
“Of course, forgive me: who wouldn’t leap at the chance to work for someone issuing threats on behalf of her faceless organization, without even a basic level of assured security?” I warred with myself for a moment, and threw back another mouthful of soda and liquor. That was it, though - I pushed it away again.
“Rex is right. You want a freelancer, you hire them on their terms, on contract,” Jenner said. “And if you don’t want to disclose the name of the contact, then they pay up front. Trust for trust. Mister Nobody doesn’t get to hire someone on spec.”
Ayashe’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. It’s the Special Agent in Charge of the NY-OSP. Happy?”
I shrugged. “What’s the OSP?”
“Office of Supernatural Phenomena,” Ayashe replied. “The Vigiles are the investigative and operations branch of the OSP. And they know who you are, Alexi.”
Using my name to scare me now. Cute. “I never told you my name, so how, exactly, does the Special Agent in Charge know it?” I tapped my fingers along my thigh in a wave, listening to the modulation of her voice. I could read it better than her expression.
She snorted. “What, you figured blowing up your apartment wasn’t going to attract an investigation? You hid a bunch of evidence and revealed a lot more, is what I’m guessing. Don’t blame me – I wasn’t assigned to that case.”
Ayashe was lying: she’d ratted on us, or I’d eat my own fist. Jenner had gone still and cold behind the bar, listening.
“I’m sure you filed a report on everything,” I said.
“Sure I did. I have a job to do. But believe me, I left a LOT out. Too much. The only reason I did it was because of the kids.”
So, what, she expected me to trust her because she’d only ratted out on me a little bit, and it was ‘for the children’? It was comically amatuer. Typical police bullshit. “Look – you’re the one breaking all these vaunted laws by trying to bring me in and omitting things from reports, alright? You don’t get to hand off all the liability of this ‘off the books’ consulting business to me. Because what you’re really saying is that your boss wants me to kill Soldier 557 for you all, aren’t you?”
Ayashe’s grim silence told me everything I needed to know.
I stared her down. “No. I know what happens to spooks who work for the Government on the Government’s terms - they do their job, and then they get ghosted.”
“We’re not the bad guys, Rex.” Ayashe got to her feet, hands fisted. “This motherfucker raped and murdered a woman in cold blood. Kristen was a good person and a damn good cop, and people like her work around the goddamn clock while sanctimonious assholes like YOU make life miserable for everyone in this goddamn city!”
The grinning predator in me had a good laugh at that. I jerked my chin up, and turned my head back to the bar. “Go tell that to the Wolf Grove kids. We’re done here.”
“We sure as hell are. I’ll go find someone with a conscience.” Ayashe’s voice curdled red with barely suppressed fury.
“Sure thing,” Jenner chirped. “You just walk into the nearest Masonic lodge, and be like: Hey there wizard friends, who wants to go take out a murderous rapist psycho? Nothing in it for you, of course, and no guarantee of support because you’re warlock scum, but hey, want to take a crack at it?”
I snorted. “Ayashe, there isn’t a spook on the street that will touch this job. Rutherford made it crystal-clear that the ‘law’ doesn’t serve people like you and me.” I got to my feet. Ayashe was a foot taller than me in high heels, but I wasn’t going to back down – not if she was going to try and drag other spooks into this. “We don’t have any damned rights, as far as your Super Special Agent is concerned. This is a pump and dump and you know it.”
“And I’ll say it again. We are not the bad guys here, Alexi.”
I fixed her with a level glare. “Listen. Your ‘Agency’ puts people like me on the same tier as hepatitis and rabid dogs. And you think I’d hunt for them? Advise them? Kill for them? So like Jenner says, go right ahead and turn up at the local mage haunt and flash your badge around. Try the sob story about the dead cop when their friends were disappeared by your people the year before. I dare you.”
Ayashe snarled. It was the only warning I got before she was on me, too fast for the HuMan eye to follow, even as my own naked instinct made me throw my guard up, bracing for the impact, but Jenner had already vaulted the bar to the ground in front of me. She took the blow that would have snapped my neck or broken any other bone Ayashe pleased. As frail as she looked, she didn’t even stagger. A shivering wave of energy crawled over my skin as Jenner shoved Ayashe back with equal supernatural strength, putting distance between us, and stepped forward.
“If Alexi wants to pick a fight with me, let him deal with the consequences.” Ayashe’s voice was guttural, an inhuman throaty rumble that she seemed to pull up from her feet. “You’re pushing it, Jenner.”
“No, whelp – YOU’RE pushing it.” Jenner’s voice had thickened and deepened as well. “You want to mount a challenge for the state against me? Go right ahead. I’ll remind you why I’m the Malek-Kab, and you’re not.”
Ayashe’s eyes had gone completely black, the white sclera retreating to the edge of her eyes. She lowered her head and snorted, shoulders mantling. “And you’d best remember that you’re a fucking criminal!”
Now that I had my magic back, I could feel what I’d only dimly sensed before. They both radiated incredible vital force that whipped through the room like a silent thunderstorm around us. Ayashe’s was earthy, Jenner’s fiery. The hair on my arms stood on end.
Jenner sneered like a cat, licking her teeth. “You don’t get to pick and choose your allegiances, Ayashe. You don’t get to quote the right of challenge, then turn around and insult your Queen. You’ve worn out my patience and your welcome.”
Neither of them had shifted, but the difference between them was becoming starker by the second. Jenner’s age, her Phitonic Mass, perhaps, was far greater than Ayashe’s. The weight of centuries pressed down around us, and it threatened to suck my knees to the ground; resisting the urge
to kneel made the ends of my femurs ache.
“You can give yourself any stupid title you want. Spotted-Elk proved the Ib-Int is worthless, and so is your attempt to lord over me.” Ayashe sounded petulant, her dark face flushed a deep coral red. “I’m-”
“You’re one smartass comment away from being declared Outcaste,” Jenner’s voice was deep, and very old. “It’s bad enough that you’re working for the Order. Leave. And come back when you remember what you are.”
Ayashe’s face rippled with rage, but she was slowly being overwhelmed by the weight of Jenner’s power. She took a step back, tossing her head and shoulders before she fled, never quite breaking eye contact with the tigress. Jenner stared her down all the way as only a big cat could. The garage door slammed shut, leaving the pair of us in a weird, eerie silence.
“Fuck!” Jenner finally snarled, and slammed the edge of the pool table with her open hand. Her nails caught the worn green felt and tore it, a casual slap that left quarter-inch gouges in the hardwood. I watched her warily as she spun back toward me and stalked back to the bar. “I don’t fucking need this right now!”
I swallowed, composing myself, and retook my seat. Binah was nowhere to be seen. Sensible creature. “Are you alright?”
“Fucking fantastic.” Her eyes were blazing and bright – orange that transmuted to a vivid gold-green. She had pinpoint pupils that abruptly dilated back to regular size as she thumped bottles back onto their shelves.
“Well, now that the smell of bacon is subsiding, I have bad news.” I eyed the half-empty glass, and swallowed against the dryness in my mouth.
“Me too. Let’s take it outside. I need a break.” Jenner skittered her hand along the countertop, like a cockroach, and pointed at the ceiling before rounding the counter and heading for the door.
Good idea. I needed to get away from the bar before I made myself sick. This happened sometimes… I’d get stuck on eating or drinking one particular thing, fixate on it for a while. One month in college, I ate nothing but BLTs for three meals a day, every day, until Vassily was about ready to strangle me with my uncooked bacon. But it had never happened with alcohol before. I hated booze and always had. The couple of swallows I’d had of the orange-flavor seltzer was churning in my stomach.
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