The Devil Is a Gentleman (2 page)

“Just sit there,” I said, “I’ll make some more coffee.” I needed time. I went to the kitchen and filled the empty carafe with water and poured it into the reservoir. I dumped the old grounds, pressed a new filter into place, filled it with coffee, and started the machine. I could hear Bradley muttering to himself in the next room. I unclipped the gun from its holster and put it in my pocket. When the pot was still filling I poured two cups and gave one to Bradley.

“Thanks,” he said. He took a sip, grimaced, then set the cup on the end table. “I never should have done it,” he said. “I wasn’t supposed to. They’ll be after me when they find out what I did.” He seemed calmer, but his talk was just as crazy.

“Who will?” I said.

“Hm?” said Bradley, apparently unaware he had spoken aloud.

“Who will be after you?” I said.

“No one,” he said.

I sighed. “Look, I don’t know why you think I can help you, but if you don’t tell me what the hell you want, then I’m going to call the cops.”

“Don’t do that,” Bradley said, suddenly alarmed. “They’ll know for sure if you tell the cops. They’ve got people everywhere.”

“Who does?” I said, getting very irritated. “Who are you talking about?”

“The Blood,” he said.

“Blood?” I said.

“Oh, poor Gina,” he said, his voice soft and far away. “She didn’t deserve it.” He put his head in his hands and his body started shaking. “She was so sweet,” he moaned thickly.

“Oh, Jesus,” I said. “You’re crying, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said.

I sighed and sipped my coffee. It was satisfying in a morbid way that Frank Bradley had gone off the deep end. But after watching him for a few minutes, I started to get bored with the whole thing. He slowly recovered from his crying jag, and finally looked up at me, his eyes red but dry. He ran a hand through his hair, which only served to make it stand up in odd angles on his head.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I said. “Just tell me what you want.”

“There’s something wrong with me,” he said. “It comes and goes, but, it’s bad.”

“What do you mean?” I said. “What comes and goes?”

“The sickness.” He got up and started pacing in front of me. He was getting twitchy again. I put my hand back in my pocket and felt the cool metal there. I shouldn’t have let the guy in. What was I thinking? I looked toward the phone and wondered how fast the cops could get here. I looked back at Bradley, who was hitting his head again with his hand.

“I think you should go,” I said.

He turned around to look at me, seeming surprised to see me there. Like he’d forgotten me already. “I stole the vial and now I’m paying for it,” he said, suddenly so still it was eerie. “The angel was right. It changed me.”

“Angel?” I said.

“Yes, he was right.” Bradley’s eyes narrowed. “I think I killed her. She was so sweet. Like a flower. I could smell it, though. I had to do it.”

I clutched the gun in my pocket and got slowly to my feet. I backed away toward the phone, taking the gun out of my pocket, hiding it in my sleeve. “Who did you kill?” I said, making my voice stay calm. “Maybe she’s not dead.”

He hunched forward and cried out in pain, making me jump. “I want you to help me,” he gasped. “You’re the only one I know. Abnormal. Make it stop.”

“What’s wrong with you?” I said, trying to keep him talking. I was almost to the phone. Ron Smithy could have someone here the fastest. Ron was the chief of police, and maybe the only honest cop left in this city. He was also an old friend from my P.I. days. Bradley was now bent over, gasping for breath. I thought there probably really was something wrong with the bastard. Something that wasn’t just the crazy coming out.

“Blood,” he said, his voice an odd croak. “I know why they’re called that now. I can smell it. I can smell you right now. The Morrigan told me you’d smell like her. Couldn’t save her, though.”

My hand touched the receiver just as Bradley looked up. His eyes had changed. They were darker. I couldn’t tell the color, but they reminded me of something. His nostrils flared and he breathed in the air like he was smelling a fine wine. “Yours is different,” he said. “Stronger. Spicier.” He straightened.

He was so changed it was hard to believe that just seconds before he had seemed pathetic. His paunchy belly had smoothed out and he moved like a wild creature, his movements smooth and precise. His eyes burned into me, and his mouth opened to reveal his teeth growing longer in his mouth. Not sharper, just longer. I raised my gun at him. He laughed.

“A gun?” he said, his voice almost a hiss. “Really, can’t you get any more imaginative than that?”

I shrugged. “The thing is,” I said. “I’m not really sure of all the things this Makarov can do. It was a gift from my father. You know who he is, don’t you? Alexei Slobodian.”

“The Summoner,” hissed Bradley, taking a step back. He narrowed his eyes at the gun.

“You need to stop right there,” I said. “What are you?”

He stopped for a second his eyes on the gun. “Don’t know,” he hissed, but there was something more human about him now. A touch of fear. “It was the angel. It burned like fire.”

“Angels again,” I said. “And I’m the unimaginative one?”

Whatever spark of humanity I’d seen on Bradley’s face disappeared. “Stupid filthy girl,” he hissed. “They’re all around you. I can smell them. Watching, waiting. Did you think demons were the only things that wriggled through the cracks?”

“Who’d you kill, Bradley?” I said. “What’s her name? Was it Gina?”

His face lost its predatory gleam, and for an instant he seemed to catch his breath. But the moment passed and he smiled. “I’m going to rip you open and drink you dry,” he said. He ran at me, his legs moving impossibly fast. He was a blur racing toward me. I squeezed the trigger. And then squeezed it again. Two kill shots, both straight into the heart. He stopped, looking down at himself. He was a foot from me and he could have reached out and grabbed me if he wanted to. But he seemed confused now. He looked at me as if he couldn’t fathom why I’d shot him. He looked at my face and his eyes went back to dull blue. His features slumped back to normal. His teeth crawled back to their natural length. Then his confusion turned to fear.

“What have I done?” he said. “I’m sorry.” He took a step back, looking down at the red stains spreading on his shirt. He touched himself where the blood was coming from. It looked strange, though. It appeared to be steaming. He looked back at me. “Why doesn’t it hurt?” he said. There was the distant wail of a police siren and Bradley started. He sniffed the air. His eyes darkened slightly, then went back to normal again. He seemed to be fighting the transformation. The blood was bubbling out where I’d shot him like it was boiling. He suddenly turned and ran, his motions a blur. He stopped to open the door, coming back into focus, and looked back at me. “I’m sorry,” he said again. And was gone.

To say I was relieved to see the Deep Blue Sea wedged in its usual spot
—
between two abandoned warehouses
—
was an understatement. After the police had finished asking all their questions about Bradley, and taken my Makarov away to run the forensics, I’d driven down to the riverfront warehouses my father used to frequent. I had been coming here every day for a month in hope of finally talking to Sam. It had been so long. But this time, I
knew
the bar would finally be there. And it was. Flashing red neon blazed the words
Deep Blue Sea
against the shabby brick building that was just as liable to disappear entirely as to be solid. But it was solid. And it was the only place I had ever seen Sam.

He was sitting on a stool and looked pointedly at his watch when I entered.

“You are quite late,” he said, when I sat down next to him.

I gave him a glare. “Late? I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks. Your stupid bar has been gone since the last time I saw you.”

Sam smiled. “I’ve missed you, Niki,” he said. I heard a groan and saw Janis slide awkwardly off her stool. She stamped out her cigarette and rolled her eyes behind her thick glasses. She tottered behind the bar and noisily pulled glasses out, sloshing liquid from bottles into them. “Janis missed you too,” he said, hiding a smile behind his tinkling glass.

“I can see that,” I said. “Where’ve you been?”

He smiled again. When we had first met, I thought Sam was creepy. He had too many teeth when he smiled, there was something about him that wasn’t quite right. But the more I saw of him, the more I liked him. I knew that he had his own agenda, that he probably wasn’t the least interested in me. But I felt drawn to him. He looked at me curiously, and I remembered his eyes. I could never tell what color they were. They were so dark they were like a void, yet they still seemed to shift, like smoke or dark clouds. I felt sucked in every time I tried looking at them. I looked at his face, boyish but for a certain somber quality. He moved gracefully, his motions smooth and long.

“Something’s happened,” I said.

“I can see that,” said Sam, setting down his glass. “You don’t look well.”

“That happens when I get attacked by Abnormal congressmen.”

Sam raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Frank Bradley.”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t follow politics. Not yours, anyway.”

“He’s the bastard that started it all,” I said. “Abnormals, the Registry, he’s the poster child for New Government.” I sipped my whiskey. It was calming my nerves. “He was strange. Not like any Abby I’ve ever seen. He babbled on about angels and blood. Then he changed right in front of me, like a werewolf or a vampire.”

“No such thing,” said Sam.

“Still,” I said. “That’s what it looked like. And then he attacked me like he wanted to eat me.”

“That does seem odd.”

“Damn right it was odd,” I said. “I shot him twice and it didn’t even slow him down. He just disappeared. The cops said there was no sign of him.”

Sam frowned. “Niki, have you ever heard of angelwine?”

“No,” I said.

“No reason why you should,” he said. “I believe your politician overindulged before he paid you a visit. It’s really quite overwhelming for humans.”

“What is it?” I said. “A drug?”

“Angelwine. Let’s just say it does not mix well with human DNA. It’s made from the blood of angels.”

“Angels,” I said. “Of course. Why wouldn’t there be angels?” Sam frowned at me. I didn’t think he caught my sarcasm. “Bradley was muttering about angels.”

“I’m sure he was,” said Sam. “I have the feeling that this won’t end well. You’re not thinking of pursuing it, are you?”

“New Government politician who ruined my life, now comes to me asking for help, changes into something that tries to kill me, then disappears? Illicit substances drained from actual angels? Hard to stay away.”

He sighed. “There’s only one group of people that deal with angelwine. They’re a secret society called The Blood. Niki, be warned. They are extremely powerful. Even you can’t possibly last against them.”

“I will take your advice into account,” I said.

“This is the wrong city to tangle with them,” said Sam. “It’s, as your people say, their home turf.”

“And mine,” I said.

“Really, Niki,” Sam said, his voice almost pleading, “stay away from this.”

“Speaking of powerful secret organizations,” I said. “That reminds me. I met with someone the other day. Someone who tried to hire me. Said she knows you.”

“Who?” he said. His eyes shifted like smoke.

“She’s just like you,” I said, the realization clicking into place in my mind.

“What?” he said.

“The new police commissioner,” I said. “I met her yesterday. I was trying to place what was familiar about her the whole goddamn time I was in her office. She offered me a job, something about tracking down a menacing secret group. But all I kept thinking the whole time was
Who does she remind me of?
And it’s you. She was wearing tinted glasses, but I’ll bet if she took them off she’d have those same eyes. She even moves like you.”

“Her name?” he said.

“She told me not to tell you,” I said, taking a sip of my drink. “In fact, she threatened me. Said if I told you, something terrible would happen to me.” I lowered my eyes in what I hoped was a modest expression.

Sam’s smile was thin. “As if that would stop you. What does she call herself?”

I put my glass down. “First, I have questions.” There was a loud hacking cough and we looked over to see Janis, her crossword puzzle forgotten, staring at us with rapt attention. “Maybe we could speak privately?” I said.

Sam sighed. “Fine. Let’s go sit.” He got off his stool, so quickly I barely saw him. He offered his hand to help me down and I took it. It was like touching fire, it was so hot. I pulled my hand back, looking at him in alarm. He smiled. “It’s okay,” he said. I took it again, the heat not so bad when I was expecting it. Curious. I let go and my hand tingled. I rubbed it on my jeans. Sam led the way to our usual booth, near the door, and we settled in.

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted. “Me first,” I said. “Where’s Eli?”