Dead of Night (Ghosts & Magic #1) (6 page)

Outside of what I carried, my most prized possession was a picture of Karen, Molly, and myself that I'd found on Facebook, printed from an inkjet on thin copy paper and framed in clear plastic. It was my reminder of better days, and the perfect life that had gone sour because of a breakdown in my molecular construction. I don't know why, but when I looked at it I almost felt normal again. I almost believed I was still a human being. I'd laid it on top of my pile of dark hoodies, black tees, jeans, pants, underwear, and socks, so meager that I couldn't even fill my suitcase completely.
 

Danelle's stuff wasn't much more impressive. She had a greater range of blouses, camis, sweaters, tights, and jeans, but her own memories were limited to a photo of her with her brother before she'd been disavowed, and another of her with her ex-husband, before he'd been caught on a job and killed.

It was a sad life, but it was a life.

"Thanks, Rayon," Danelle said, after the big zombie lowered her gently into the passenger seat. "I'm going to miss you."

"Really?" He seemed surprised.
 

"Really."

He gave her a half-smile, turned, and shambled back towards the house. I was standing at the front door, holding a lighter.

"It's okay, boss." He could tell I was feeling guilty. I don't know how, but he could. "I don't know what I'm going back to, but something tells me its better than what you've got." He looked back towards the van. "With one exception, maybe."

I couldn't believe he was trying to cheer me up, when I was about to turn him to ash. Then I remembered what I had packed into the van.
 

"Maybe you're right, with one exception." Danelle and I made lousy bedmates, but we'd clicked everywhere else. I patted the zombie on the shoulder, and handed him the lighter. "You know what to do. Maybe I'll see you on the other side someday. Just not too soon."

His answer was unexpected. His face turned eerily dark, his eyes narrowing and his lip curling in an almost-snarl. "Stay away as long as you can. If you think it isn't safe for you here, you have no idea what's waiting."
 

A lump rose into my throat. "What the hell are you talking about?"
 

Rayon's face regained its peaceful neutrality. "What?"

"What...the...hell?" My heart was pounding, and I could feel my muscles tensing up. I'd always been afraid of death. Having it threaten me was new.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Sorry, boss."

I stared into his blank brown eyes, searching for some shred of whatever had caused the outburst, and finding nothing. "Whatever, Rayon. Go do what you need to do."
 

I headed back towards the van, trying to calm the pounding in my heart. The door to the house creaked open and smacked closed behind me. By the time I slid into the driver's seat and turned to look, the flames were licking at the windows. I could see Rayon through them, his hand raised in a wave, smoke swirling around him.
 

I found the thread connecting us and cut it. A second later, his body fell from view.

"It never gets easier, does it?" Danelle asked.
 

I turned the key and brought the van to life. My hands were quaking against the wheel. "That depends on the corpse. Evan's useful, but he's an asshole. Ray was a good one, though."
 

I put the car in reverse and backed it out of the driveway. The smoke from the house was getting more noticeable, and I wanted to be gone before the neighbors called the fire department. I could only imagine what they'd think when they went into the basement. There was a reason we'd paid our rent in cash.
 

"Where to?"
 

I sucked in my breath and held it, hoping it would calm the tremors Rayon's words had caused.
 

Danelle dug the card out of a small backpack at her feet. "We need to cash this in so we can lose the trail."

"Why didn't you just do it at the house?"
 

"Too direct. We need to route it through a few other holdings first, so it will be harder to trace back to me."

She was still worried I was going to blow it, and her father would find out she was involved in his business. Even if he thought she was working for him. It was nuts, but that was the depth of his disappointment.

"They're going to take twenty percent."

"Money well spent. Even if you finish the job they're going to try to trace the funds, just so they know who they're dealing with. Black doesn't like anonymity."

"I thought that was the whole point of being a ghost? I take it you have a contact in mind?"

She smiled. "Of course. Head down to the Loop."

"It's two o'clock in the morning. The banks aren't open."

"Don't be stupid. This one is."

We crossed over the LaSalle Street bridge, into the canyon between the high skyscrapers that made up the bulk of the financial district. The buildings rose up around us, giant skeletons of steel with concrete and glass skin. Lit interiors brought faint, speckled glows to the exteriors, as overnight janitors prepped the offices for the next day's transactions and underground financiers worked the mundane magic that kept the world moving with as little disruption as possible. Most people didn't know how much the Houses actually controlled. Then again, most people probably didn't care to know.

"You're sure this guy is freelance?"
 

The streets were almost empty this time of morning, barren but for the occasional vagrant with nowhere else to go, or a patrolling squad car. Most people went inside and locked the doors once it got late enough, including pieces of the criminal element. Even if you were a ghost, it wasn't always a safe place to be.
 

Not since the reversal.
 

Not since the monsters.
 

"I'm sure. There's a lot of coin to be made catering to unaffiliated clientele. Turn right up there, go two blocks and pull over."

"As long as you have enough balls to openly defy the Houses." I made the turn and counted the two blocks, and then stopped the van at the side of the road. The street was deserted.

"You see that alley?" Danelle pointed to an especially dark spot between two buildings. "Go in there, all the way to the back. There's going to be an emergency exit. Go inside, and climb up to the sixth floor. If anyone tries to stop you, tell them you're there to see Mr. Clean. If they still won't let you by, do what you have to."

"His name isn't really Mr. Clean, is it?"

"Close. What does it matter? Oh, and just so you know what to expect, he's a goblin."

"You're kidding?"
 

She gave me the evil eye. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

It wasn't that I was racist against leathers. I had worked a shift in a clinic that treated them almost exclusively. Their mistrust had been palpable, but when you set a broken bone, or treated a case of ambrosia, they were as grateful as anybody else. My surprise was more because this Mr. Clean had somehow beat the odds and made something of himself. The fact that he was doing it in the same thread of reality as the Houses only made it more impressive.
 

I got up and moved to the back of the van, unlatching the steamer and lifting the lid. There was no order to the way we'd packed the guns, we'd just piled them in as we found them, and so I grabbed the first pistol I saw. It was a standard issue piece, matte black and plain in appearance. I shoved it into the back of my pants, under the trench coat. I dug around a bit to find a second handgun, and gave it to Danelle.

"I'm not leaving you here alone, either."
 

The place where we had stopped was pretty light on energy, but it was enough to get Evan up and moving. I lifted the lid to the cooler and reached in, pulling on the fields and sending the magic through me and into the corpse. I was still a little freaked out by what Rayon had said, and my voice trembled when I called him back.

"Captain Evan Williams. Time to deploy."
 

The cold, glassy eyes became a little less cold and glassy. A skeletal arm reached up and grabbed the edge of the cooler, and his half-face created an angry sneer.
 

"You know I hate when you call me like that, asshole. You were never on the force, so don't act like you're my C.O."

"Just get up," I said. I didn't like Evan. I never had. I respected him for the badass he had been when he was alive... excluding the fact that he'd gotten blasted in the chest by his own wife after he'd almost beat her to death.
 

He lifted himself from the cooler and stepped out, his bone foot making a hollow sound when it landed on the floor of the van. "Well? What do you want?"

"I want you to defend the van. If anything tries to give Danelle trouble, take care of it."

He glanced over at her and sighed. "Invalid duty again?"

"Fuck you, Evan," Danelle said.

"Back at you. It's not like I have a choice." He looked over the collection of weaponry. "Still no M-16?"

"Do you know how much those things cost?"

He picked up the Bushmaster. "This is close enough, I guess. You want me inside or outside?"

"Stay inside unless there's trouble."

"Fine. Now get lost."

I went back to the front of the van. "Any last words?"

"Try not to touch anyone. We can't afford to boost you a second time in the same week." She handed me the card.

I nodded and went out through the drivers side, circling around the back of the van towards the alley. The street was still deserted, and the quietness left me feeling edgy. Even so, I made it to the rear of the building without incident.

The door was there, just as Danelle had said. I tried to push it open. Locked. I looked around while I dug my hand into another pocket, locating my set of picks and bringing them into the open. I moved myself so my body hugged the door while my hands worked the picks, and the picks worked the tumblers. The door was open inside of five seconds.

I slipped in, using as little space as possible. I was in the inner emergency stairwell, a narrow, dimly lit vertical expanse of metal grated stairs. Looking up, I could see a pair of size twenty feet three floors above me. They weren't moving, so I could only assume the wearer hadn't heard me come in.

Which left me with an interesting choice. Sneak up on him and take him out, or let him know I was here right now. I tucked myself into the shadows and watched him for a minute while I tried to decide. Danelle had known there would be guards in the stairwell, which meant they could probably be reasoned with.

"Hello," I said, raising my voice and stepping out of the shadows. The pair of feet shifted, and then a large head leaned over the railing, looking down at me.
 

"How'd you get in here? I didn't hear nuthin'." His voice was deep, and it echoed through the stairwell.
 

I ignored his question. "I'm here to see Mr. Clean."

"What for?"

I held up the card, making sure it caught enough of what little light there was that he would understand.

"Who's the ghost?"

"Daaé." Every ghost had a handle. That one was Dannie's.

He stopped looking down at me. There was some rustling. His voice carried in the narrow enclosure. "Got a ghost here... Daaé... Mr. Clean... yeah, okay." His head re-appeared. "Come on up, slow like. Keep your hands where I can see 'em."

His small, dark eyes followed me a I wound my way up the steps, walking as lightly as I could so that the soles of my boots barely made a sound on the steel. I wanted him to know I could have snuck up on him, if I'd wanted to.

Even when I reached the third floor landing, I still had to look up. The leather was nearly seven feet tall, and my head only hit his thick chest. He glared down at me past his wide, flat nose and smiled, holding out a meaty hand. "Gimme your piece."

I returned his smile and slowly reached under the trench to remove the gun from my pants. I dropped it into his waiting palm.

"You'll get this back when your business is done. Head up to the sixth."

I didn't say anything else to him. I stepped past his hulking form and climbed the next three flights of stairs. I coughed once when I got to the top. The downward spiral was beginning again already.

There was another orc behind the stairwell door, and he opened it for me when I arrived. He looked a lot like the first, but with straighter black hair and a fancy silver earring. His ordinance was heavier too, a fully-automatic assault rifle with an extended clip.
 

"You Daaé?"

"I'm the only one on the stairs."

He grunted a laugh. "Smart ass. Third door on your left. Don't touch anything."

I nodded and walked by. I was in a long hallway with a pink marble floor and a scattering of doors on either side, each leading to a different financial office. All of them were likely owned by one House or another, through all sorts of shell corporations and entities that made them difficult to trace all the way back. The third door on the left belonged to 'Simon & Williams Accounting'. It was the only one whose lights were on. Looking through the small glass window, I could see a receptionist desk with a pretty young woman sitting behind it. I turned the handle and walked in.

"I'm-"

"Daaé," the woman said. She was a petite thing, with shoulder length blonde hair and delicate features. I could see the tips of her ears poking out through strands of gold.

"Does Mr. Clean have a thing against homo sapiens?"
 

The elf smiled. "My mother is a traditional human, so I would say probably not. You can have a seat over there." She directed me towards a row of chairs.

"I have to wait?"

"You don't like to wait?"

I approached the desk. I was six floors up and a hundred feet in from the street, and I could feel my line to Evan wasn't as strong as I'd like. "I left my friend outside in the van. I'd prefer her to still be there when I get back."