Desperate Souls (35 page)

Jake holstered his Glock and retrieved Edgar’s gun, which he jammed into the folds of the bunched-up blazer. Stepping toward the door, he turned back and ran to the table, then snatched the feather. He raced out of the apartment to the stairwell and managed to open the door.

Only four floors to go,
he thought, descending the stairs.

Inside the clothing, the raven croaked again.

Not a bird. Edgar. Somehow that bitch turned him into a fucking raven!

He felt the raven trembling in his arms and hoped it would not die of fright or shock. He did not run down the stairs for fear of slipping and crushing his precious cargo.

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.

One minute later, he peered out the door leading into the lobby just as the doorman escorted two uniformed police officers to the elevator.

Observe and report.

As soon as he heard the elevator door close, Jake slipped on his wraparound shades. He swung the door open with his foot and hurried into the lobby.

“Holy shit!” the doorman said.

Jake ignored the doorman, who looked at the elevator for support, then tried to head Jake off.

“Hey, what the hell do you have there?”

Jake pulled Edgar’s Glock free of the blazer. “Do yourself a favor: be smart and stay the fuck out of my way.”

The doorman’s eyes widened, and he raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay. Whatever you say. The cops are on their way to the sixth floor. Hurry up and leave before they come down, so there won’t be any trouble.”

Jake turned and ran for the door, concealing Edgar’s gun again. Outside, he hurried to the Monte Carlo. He unlocked the doors and laid the bundle of clothing in the backseat.

“Just don’t peck my eye out if you get loose,” he said, closing the door. Then he ran around to the front of the car, hopped behind the wheel, and keyed the ignition.

Leaving the horrors of New York behind, Jake drove to New Jersey and checked into a Motel 6. After locking the motel room’s door, he unfolded Edgar’s clothes over the desk, allowing the raven a modicum of freedom. The bird was enormous: two feet in length from beak to shiny black tail feathers. It darted away from him on its claws, flapping its wings in protest.

He doesn’t know how to fly,
Jake thought.
Good. That will make it easier to bundle him up in the morning.

He didn’t know what birds ate, and since he had no intention of running out to a store this late, it didn’t matter. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the candy bar he had bought in the motel office. Tearing the wrapper open, he twisted the candy bar in two. He took a bite out of one half, then broke the other half into little bits of chocolate and caramel and nuts and sprinkled them over the desktop. “What’s mine is yours.”

The raven pecked at the crumbs.

He filled the bathroom sink with water and left the door open.

With the lights on, he climbed into bed and fell asleep with a loaded Glock in each hand.

In the middle of the night, Jake felt something sharp digging into his chest. Springing awake, he sat up, the startled raven flapping its wings in a flurry of frantic motion as it descended to the floor.

Oh, Jesus,
he thought.

It had been looking right at him. What was it thinking? Was it capable of human thought? Did it have Edgar’s memories?

Lying back on the bed, he closed his eyes.

While I pondered, weak and dreary …

The next morning, Jake left Edgar inside the car while he went into a gigantic pet store to shop for necessities. The bird seemed to have grown accustomed to his presence, and Jake supposed it had retained at least some vestigial memories of their friendship. He located a large, circular cage with a cover, bird feed, and a water bottle that clipped onto the cage’s side.

On his way out of the store, he felt his leg vibrating. With his free hand, he took out his cell phone and was not surprised to see Detective Vasquez flashing on the display. Squeezing the phone between his head and shoulder, he also took out his remote control and unlocked the car doors from a distance.

“Hi, Maria.” He tried to feign blissful ignorance.

“Jake, do you know where Edgar is?”

“No. What’s up?”

“He was supposed to clock in two hours ago, and he’s not here. Nobody’s heard from him, and he doesn’t answer his cell phone.”

In truth, Jake had turned Edgar’s phone off earlier this morning because Maria wouldn’t stop calling. He found her loyalty touching, but he needed to concentrate on his own crises. “I haven’t seen him since you guys visited me in the hospital. But I’m sure he’s okay. Try not to worry, and have him give me a call when he shows up.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Opening the driver’s-side door, he peered in at the giant black bird on the backseat. He tossed the bag of supplies onto the passenger seat, climbed in, and said, “You hear that? They miss you at work.”

Then he started the engine and headed back to Manhattan.

Jake parked in his regular garage a block away from his building on Twenty-second Street. Carrying the covered birdcage in one hand, its base almost scraping the concrete, he scanned the crowded sidewalk for any signs of danger. So many New Yorkers walked to work to save money now that his eye barely absorbed the faces and clothes around him.

A scarecrow with bulging eyes cut a swath through the crowd, homing in on him. “I’ll carry that for you for a dollah,” he said.

Jake gave the man a hard look that sent him scampering for another mark. An uneasy feeling gripped his stomach as he neared his building.
The perfect place for an ambush.

Passing the building’s entrance, he entered Laurel’s parlor and saw her sitting at the round table, surrounded not by tarot cards and a crystal ball but facing a laptop and an old-fashioned adding machine.

“I hope you’re not planning to point a gun at me again.”

“Not today.” He set the birdcage on top of the table and pulled back the cover. “Meet my partner—ex-partner—Detective Edgar Hopkins of the Special Homicide Task Force, currently assigned to the Black Magic Task Force.”

Laurel studied Edgar’s eyes and beak. “I assume this isn’t the feathered version of a K-9 dog?”

Jake shook his head. “Until last night, Edgar was as human as you or me. It turns out he was closer to the bokor behind these zonbies than either he or I realized. She did this to him. Her birth name is Ramera Evans, but she also goes by Dawn Du Pre and Katrina. Do any of those names mean anything to you?”

Still staring at the raven, Laurel said, “I’m afraid not.”

Jake reached into his pocket and took out the black feather he had snatched from Katrina’s table. “I found this in the same room as the bird next to a burning candle and Edgar’s empty clothes.”

Now she looked up. “What color was the candle?”

“Purple.”

“What did it smell like?”

“I don’t really remember. Pungent, I guess. I blew out the flame.” He sat down in the chair opposite her, the birdcage between them. “She had this, too.” He slid his business card across the table. “I gave it to her myself.”

Laurel picked up the card and turned it over in one hand without looking at it. “This is what she used to curse you. To a true bokor, a business card is the modern equivalent of a voodoo doll. It’s a representation of you. Just a little bit of oil from your fingertips would make this an ideal transmitter for a curse.”

Son of a bitch,
Jake thought. When would he learn to stay away from corporate totems?

“She probably had something similar that belonged to your friend here.”

“They were sleeping together.” He couldn’t bring himself to call them lovers.

“A hair, probably. Something with his genetic code.”

That old DNA devil …

“I’ll tell you this much: she didn’t want either of you dead, or she would have killed both of you. She’s that powerful.”

“How powerful are
you
? Can you make him like he was?”

She looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry. Only the witch who cast this spell can reverse it. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I’ve never seen an actual case of transmogrification before.”

Great.
“So I need to kill her to stop the zonbies, but I need her alive to make Edgar normal again?”

Laurel nodded.

“I guess my agenda is set, then.”

“How will you convince her to reverse the spell?”

“I’m not sure, but I can be pretty persuasive when I need to be. Listen, I know I have brass balls, but can you watch him for a few days while I do what needs to be done?” He nodded at the raven. “I can’t take him with me, and you’re the only one who knows his situation. I can’t … trust anyone else.”

“Of course. Eventually you’ll need to take him to this Katrina.”

“I know.” Jake stood. “Thank you.” He wiggled one finger between the cage’s thin metal bars. “Be good, Edgar. Stay away from any more bad women.” He crossed the parlor to the stairs, then turned back. “There’s always the possibility that I won’t be back.”

“I understand. Take care of yourself.”

Nodding, he left them alone.

In his suite, Jake pulled out two large bags from his closet, one of them a long Army duffel bag. He packed a week’s worth of clothing and other supplies, including all the guns and ammunition he owned.