Wicked City (5 page)

“I hope Elspeth sees sense about the deaths,” Iris murmured. “Think of her persuasive force!”

I said something vaguely sympathetic, but I was more curious about the paper that Elspeth had taken with her. “They died last night?” I asked.

Iris nodded. “The ones who died were all drinking at two of those outdoor stalls near St. Marks Place,” she said and shuddered. “What a filthy part of town.”

St. Marks Place was famous for its speakeasies and otherwise easy access to the vices of modern life. Lately, outdoor Faust vendors using repurposed hot dog and pretzel stands had been doing a brisk business with the tenement dwellers. The murders must be wreaking havoc with Ysabel and her Blood Bank, so near the crime. I would have to check on her soon, perhaps help make some deliveries.

The room filled quickly. Few political spectacles of the past few years could equal the struggle surrounding the legalization of the “vampire liquor.” Even Charles Lindbergh's successful traverse of the Atlantic the month before hadn't been enough to fully distract from the bill's contentious vote. Lindbergh's ticker tape had barely been swept from Broadway before the papers resumed running notices about the political infighting surrounding the bill. So no wonder that the news of Faust killing ten vampires overnight had caused a sensation.

“I wonder what happened to them,” I said.

Iris sighed. “Zephyr, when you reach my age you learn there's no time to waste on niceties like that. Why, do you think we would have divorce today if Stanton hadn't been willing to fudge the facts now and again? We act in the service of a higher cause. Still, I suppose information is nothing to sneeze at. Say, Lily has turned into a fair reporter these days, hasn't she? Perhaps you could lure her away from the Hamptons.”

“Certainly worth a phone call,” I said. I smiled at the thought of Lily's journalistic ambition bringing her back into the sticky Manhattan summer. She had started a new job at the prestigious
New-Star Ledger
two months ago, though she seemed to clash with the editor in chief with some frequency.

The ushers forced the doors closed. Jimmy Walker shared a whispered word with the board president. The volume in the room lessened in anticipation. In the presenters' corner, Elspeth held herself perfectly straight, her face a pleasant mask of polite interest. She had been an object of whispered innuendo since she had sat down. Apparently, not everyone approved that a vampire had been asked to present at this hearing. This didn't surprise me, but it made me furious to hear the snickers and whispered looks that Elspeth ignored out of necessity. Beside her sat Archibald Madison, the influential leader and founder of the Safety Council. Madison was her political opposite in every respect—except for the matter of Faust. He opposed it for vastly different reasons, but this had caused no small amount of consternation among our set. Madison was a tall, thick man of at least fifty, with gray hair and late-Victorian muttonchops. Among his followers he was considered handsome, but I found his pale blue eyes and habitually choleric expression profoundly off-putting. Madison had swelled the Safety Council rolls with his strident Other-hating vitriol at packed public events.

Iris nudged me, more out of excitement than anything. The board president was finally calling the hearing to order.

“Mayor, distinguished guests. Today the Board will hear presentations from many perspectives regarding the pending vote on Resolution 43, being the full approval of the drink known as Faust, heretofore approved under temporary license given by the Board of Licensure in January. Our first presenter will be Archibald Madison. You have the floor, sir.”

The applause as he stood up before the Board surprised me; this wasn't a Safety Council rally, after all.

“Gentlemen of the Board,” he said, nodding to them, “I am here to tell you, in all humility but with the truth of the Almighty behind me, that a plague has descended upon us! This plague cloaks its evil in the form and aspect of humanity, leading us to give these demons our sympathy and our love. Yes, love, I said. What wife would not love a husband, miraculously risen from the dead? What child would not love such a father? What brother such a brother? And yet these are but specters and apparitions, temptations of the devil and tests from God. We must exorcise these false creatures from our midst. The cleansing of vampires is our moral duty! And now Faust, that witch's brew of tainted blood, has compounded our problem. It emboldens the vampire, makes him reckless and strengthens his essential evil.We are in the plague's final stages if we believe for a moment that these creatures deserve anything more than a stake through their hearts and holy water in their eyes.”

He smiled faintly at the ensuing applause, like it was the least he felt he deserved. Iris and I stared at each other.

“Good god,” she said. “They invited
that
to speak?”

Elspeth sat as calmly as ever, but I could only imagine how it felt to be a vampire in the room at that moment—alone, facing a crowd who cheered your destruction.

*   *   *

Elspeth's speech went over fairly well, given the circumstances. In her quiet but forceful manner, she laid out the facts of vampirism in this city (vampires constituted only five percent of the city's population, as they had since the sixties), and the problem with Faust being one of vampire welfare and safety, not some existential danger to humans. Though you wouldn't know it from reading the press, the chances of being turned from a vampire bite are around one in two hundred.

Iris and I led the applause, such as it was. But one of the aldermen called her back before she could reach her seat. “Miss Akil, if you could please just answer one question?” It was Fred Moore, a negro alderman representing one of the two Harlem districts. “I trust you have heard of the latest incident involving this drink? Would you argue that Faust's implication in the matter of ten vampire deaths overnight gives a greater credence to the arguments for prohibition?”

A murmur went through the room. Iris gave my elbow a gleeful squeeze, as this was what she had encouraged Elspeth to say all along. But Elspeth, having paused a moment to consider her response, nodded. “It maybe so, sir, but the evidence is very thin right now. The bottles could have been poisoned, for all we know. Until the true cause can be ascertained, I am not comfortable making such a pronouncement, or capitalizing on these tragedies.”

A wave of whispered conversation overtook the chamber as Elspeth retook her seat. Iris shook her head. “I should have known!” she said.

“At least she's consistent.” I felt sure she had taken the proper route, though I saw Iris's point. If something about Faust
had
turned deadly, it would only strengthen our position.

The hearing concluded an hour or so later. Elspeth had tried her best to be persuasive, but I filed out of the chamber feeling discouraged. It felt more like a show trial than something designed to elicit information and debate.

The mayor and a woman I didn't recognize were speaking with Madison on the floor of the chamber. I tried to hurry past, but he caught my eye and nodded cordially. I blushed. Had Elspeth or Iris seen? On no account could I tell them of my letter this morning. I needed to see what exactly tomorrow's appointment with the mayor would bring. As I walked by, he was talking to Madison with a politician's false heartiness. “Well, my friend, you've got to at least make it to the banquet this Saturday. We're putting on quite a show—I just got word from Albany that Al might come down as well.”

Madison's faint, supercilious smile didn't waver. “As I've told Mrs. Brandon, the invitation is flattering, but I can't say for sure. A man of my position must examine his affiliations very carefully…”

The drift of the crowd pushed me away before I could hear any more. The mayor really thought he could convert a demagogue like Madison to his side? Good news for us, then—such an improbable pursuit must mean he hadn't yet secured the necessary votes to legalize Faust. On the steps outside, Iris took a leaflet from a man passing them out and fanned herself. Elspeth had covered herself thoroughly for the journey into the evening sun, but she stayed with us for a little longer.

“Madison has too much support,” Elspeth said, watching the earnest-looking young men passing out pamphlets to the lingering crowd. “He claims his Safety Council has doubled its membership in the last six months.”

“Piffle,” Iris said, “he would say so. The man thinks he's the second coming of our Lord.”

“If only he would try to walk on water,” Elspeth said and I laughed.

The man himself descended the steps a moment later, smiling and shaking hands. Iris grunted and lowered her makeshift fan. For the first time, I noticed that the leaflet had been issued by the Safety Council.

The bold text was lurid and explicit:
TRUST MADISON! STOP THE VAMPIRE SCOURGE! JUSTICE IS IN YOUR HANDS. IF BEAU JAMES WILL NOT STOP THE SUCKER PLAGUE, YOU KNOW YOUR MORAL DUTY.

“Have you read this?” I asked, taking the damp paper. Elspeth leaned over.

“He would never have dared write this a year ago,” she said. On the curb, Madison waved to the crowd and then climbed into a waiting sedan. For religious man, he didn't seem to have much trouble flaunting his wealth: his shining blue Packard probably cost what I made in five years of work for the Citizen's Council.

“Maybe his followers are the ones getting more radical,” Iris said.

But I frowned over the paper, wondering at the childlike caricature of a long-fanged vampire sinking his teeth into a young, beautiful woman. Radical and violent. A stake was pictured beside the words “moral duty,” and the implied message made me nauseous.

“Poison in the bottles could have killed those vampires,” I said.

Elspeth looked at me sharply. “It could have. And you think someone had a motive to put it there?”

“I think quite a few someones might have been convinced to stop the vampire scourge.”

“Murder!” Iris said so loudly that not a few people nearby turned. “But surely it's more likely the Faust itself killed them! Given everything else it does.” Iris pouted, clearly frustrated by the possibility that these deaths might not help our cause as she had hoped. But I felt a pang at the thought of what such news would do to Amir. It sometimes seemed he felt guilty for bringing Faust into the city, but how much worse would it be if it turned out to kill vampires as well?

“Perhaps,” Elspeth said quietly. “But you will allow, Iris, that every other side effect of the drug was witnessed very early. And even though I doubt most of Madison's followers are dedicated enough to take up this injunction…”

“Some might be,” I said. “If not Madison himself.”

“You don't think!” Iris said, clearly warming to the theory.

Elspeth shrugged. “I doubt he would so dirty his hands. He's far too savvy a political figure. But that doesn't preclude his involvement—if indeed these were murders. Zephyr?”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind looking into the matter?”

“Into Madison?”

“Yes. If he's involved in some way, it would be good to know. Even if he isn't, Madison is becoming a force to reckon with in the city.”

“But wasn't I going to help you write letters and newspaper items?”

Elspeth waved her hand. “This is far more important. Iris and the others can help. But it seems clear to me that you have connections where we do not. The mayor knows you by sight.”

I bit my lip. So she
had
noticed, drat it all. “I'm still not sure—”

“If you will just try, Zephyr,” Elspeth said. “No one will judge you for failure.”

“Of course, Elspeth. I'll do what I can.” I didn't know how much good my sleuthing would do, but I admit the idea gave me a bit of a thrill.

“Well, I'm dead famished,” Iris declared. “Would you like to dine with me, Zephyr? And Elspeth, of course,” she added in hurried embarrassment. Elspeth declined graciously, claiming another appointment across town.

“But about that other matter, Zephyr,” Elspeth said, her voice lower. “It's possible that I might have found a solution.”

It took me a moment to realize she was speaking about Amir. “You have?” I said, shocked. I had first asked her about this months before.

“Yes. It is not safe to mention here, but if you come to the office tomorrow, I'll know for sure. Now, if you'll excuse me…”

She said farewell to Iris and then hurried down the steps to the subway entrance. The sun had descended considerably as we talked.

“I'm hungry myself,” I said.

Iris laughed. “Zephyr, dear, if nothing else, your appetite can be relied upon.”

*   *   *

Iris took me to a wonderfully loud Italian restaurant on Mulberry Street, where we sat in the garden while Iris smoked and we both ate our weight in pasta. The whole place was packed with communists and anarchists, who periodically fired good-natured snipes at each other, like two pirate ships exchanging salutes. Iris procured Chianti and dessert, insisted on paying for everything, and hired a taxi to drop me off at Mrs. Brodsky's. The driver took me back through Little Italy, across Broome Street, and I noticed that the Beast's Rum—the speakeasy that had closed due its association with Rinaldo's now-defunct gang—seemed to have reopened for business. Under new management? I had not seen a trace of the child vampire Nicholas or his Turn Boy friends since January, but I knew they'd survived the fracas. Still, even half-mad Nicholas wouldn't have the gall to move right back into his murdered gangster daddy's old bar, would he?

We passed not a few Faust street vendors as well, all of whom seemed to be doing a brisk business, to my surprise. Perhaps these vampires hadn't heard of the strange deaths. Perhaps they didn't think they were likely to get the poison apple.