Heart Strings (Black Magic Outlaw Book 3) (13 page)

 

 

 

 

A cool breeze washed over the path outside Evan's house. I brushed the chill off my arms. The temperature had plummeted to the sixties sometime around midnight. Hey, that's pretty cold for Miami, and I didn't own a jacket.

A yellow Corvette pulled into the driveway and parked outside the garage. Evan Cross stepped out and ruffled his short, blond hair.

"Hey buddy," I said as I turned the corner of his house.

He started. "What the fuck? Everybody's looking for you." A pause. "
I'm
looking for you."

"Bang-up job then."

His demeanor remained harsh. "I'm in the shit because of you."

"Let me guess. Sergeant Ronaldo Garcia?"

"Not just him. Commissioner Alvarez. He's one of my bosses and he's holding me accountable."

I slid closer to my friend but kept my back against the wall, staying in the shadow. "I'm not the trouble."

"Trouble," he scoffed. "You wanna hear about trouble, man?" He ticked out his fingers. "You kick-started a war in Little Haiti that included the death of a prominent Nigerian business leader. You broke into City Hall and attacked the chief of security. You trespassed onto the commissioner's private residence and assaulted him and his staff. Then you crash a private fund-raiser and attack my team. All using black magic."

"All magic's black when you don't understand it."

His face grew cold. "One of my squad officers died."

"That was the poltergeist. More fallout from the Covey. I'm sorry, Evan. I know Rudi's just a pawn. But he's chosen sides so I'm taking him down."

He laughed. "You can't take him down, Cisco."

I held out the laptop. "With what's on here, I sure can. Now I'm hoping
you
choose a side, buddy, and I hope it's the right one."

"I'm a cop. Of course I'm on the right side."

"Then take the laptop."

We stood in silence for a minute, sizing each other up. He was probably working out how to get me into cuffs so he could turn me in. I was taking a gamble on my friend, but it was a good bet as far as I was concerned.

He eyed my offering warily before taking it from my hands. "What's on here?"

"Account records from Blue Sky Investments in Grand Cayman. A shell for the real estate being plucked and sold along Biscayne Bay. But that's just the start of it. The war in Little Haiti, devaluing those properties, me being a hit man thrall for the Covey—it's all just a small piece. On this hard drive are bank accounts and fraudulent activities that directly tie to Rudi Alvarez. Shit, Kita kept so much dirt on him, I wouldn't be surprised if she was blackmailing him herself."

He nodded but was already thinking about something else. "Kita recorded these? Where is she?"

I hiked my shoulders. "I thought she was at the hotel."

"She disappeared during the Biltmore incident. I asked you not to hurt her, Cisco."

"I only roughed her up a little. Listen, her disappearing is good news. I asked her to get out of all this. She's probably on the run." When he didn't say anything, I added, "She's fine. Trust me."

"You're making that harder and harder," he said. "But okay. I'll take a look at these files."

I smiled, happy to see my faith being upheld. "I, uh, didn't see your name in those investments, by the way."

He looked away. "The accounts were never in my name. They were in Emily's. But we cleared out of the deal after you told us the money was dirty. Stupid as it was, we left a lot of cash on the table."

I grinned wider. "You can still be on the right side of this, then."

"I already am. Any illegal activity was done without my knowledge, Cisco. Believe me."

I nodded. "I do."

"Thanks, uh, for trusting me too."

"Hey, you gotta trust someone." I scratched the back of my head. "So listen. If this all works out..."

"You wanna see Fran."

"Pretty much." I didn't care about telling her I was her father. Not yet, anyway. The last thing I wanted was to turn her world upside down. But I wanted to be part of it.

"Maybe," Evan said. "But that's a long maybe. I can't have my child interacting with a known fugitive."

"I get it. Once I get Rudi off my back, I'll be anonymous in Miami again. It'll be safe."

He frowned and I knew what he was thinking. Things would never be safe around me. I didn't buy that. Once the Covey was out of the way, everything would change for the better. We stood there in silence until it started to get awkward.

"There's just one more thing," I said meekly. "In the spirit of open communication and all. I've known for a couple weeks, but I didn't know how to tell you. Maybe I was afraid of what I might learn. It's... it's about Emily."

Even with the laptop, he managed to cross his hands over his chest and look superior.

"She's a member of the Covey."

He blinked at me. "This group you're chasing?"

I nodded.

He swallowed hard. "What are you saying?"

I hissed. Did he ever listen? "The people that had me killed, Evan. She and Kita were a part of that. Their father too."

His eyes turned angry. "Bite your tongue."

"It's true. I already confronted her about it. That night with the poltergeist. When you were stuck with the cleanup at Rudi's house, I visited her here."

My friends arms dropped slowly to his side. "You shouldn't be coming here without me around."

"Are you even hearing me, bro? Emily's involved."

Still stoic. "Screw that. I don't want you bothering her about this."

I dropped my head and closed my eyes. I knew this would hurt him. "She admitted it to me, Evan."

I heard a click as Evan pulled the hammer back on his Colt Diamondback. I opened my eyes slowly. My friend had pulled a gun on me.

"Quick draw," I whispered. Had he been waiting the whole time for an opening?

"You remember when you thought I'd betrayed you, Cisco? You remember when you had that slither of darkness around my neck? How angry you were? You could have killed me."

We both stood like statues. I could've made a move, but I didn't.

Evan lowered the gun. "This was the opposite time,
buddy
. Your life was in my hands. Remember that."

I nodded.

He holstered his weapon and stomped to the front door, but turned for one last word of warning.

"The shit that's happened to you—no one deserves that. But now you're talking about my family.
My
family. You leave them the fuck alone, or I won't be so nice next time."

I let him go inside with the sum total of evidence I had against Rudi Alvarez. I guess, in hindsight, that could've gone better.

 

 

 

 

One of the islands south of Miami Beach is Virginia Key. Most people know it because of the Miami Seaquarium. That or they take the Rickenbacker Causeway over it to get to Key Biscayne. But there's plenty of land in Virginia Key. More to it than people know.

Miami Marine Stadium was built in the sixties to showcase motorboat racing on the Bay. A backdrop of the islands and the downtown skyline make for a stunning view. But in the early nineties, Hurricane Andrew swept through the city. Miami Marine Stadium was declared unfit and shuttered its doors for good.

Not that it really
has
doors. The stadium's an open-air slab of cement straddling the beach and the water. A row of pillars behind the seating holds an enormous concrete roof that slopes sharply overhead, leaving nothing for the audience to see but clear blue sky and water.

I turned off the pickup's lights before I rolled into the empty parking lot. I'd never actually been here before. Just another piece of history lost to the generations. That didn't mean the stadium didn't show signs of life.

As I skirted the concrete access ramp that led to the seats, it was clear this place was never truly abandoned. Every square inch of the structure, including the metal hand railings, was covered in graffiti. Black, red, blue, green; I was surrounded by a rainbow of symbols and tags. On the way up, two Cuban kids not even old enough to smoke strolled by holding cans of spray paint. We nodded at each other and passed. Behind me, the clacker in their paint cans rattled as they readied for another piece of street art.

When I crested the ramp, I stood on a platform that horizontally divided the seating area in the center. The wooden chairs, cracked paint and all, rode right down to the waterline without even the safety of a railing. Only a thin cement walkway like the one I was on prevented a view from turning into a bath. In the first row were two more street artists, one a ropey black kid and the other a teenage girl. Puerto Rican, I thought. Both relaxed in the chairs, watching the water.

The Bay was calm today, a far cry from the choppy waves the night before. I turned to scan the rest of the seats but didn't see anyone else. A skyway above led to a floating press box. Despite having open windows, it was the only area in the stadium that could be described as enclosed. My money was on the silvans holing up in there.

I took a couple steps up the staircase before I stopped myself and turned around, a chuckle on my lips. Then I headed down the stairs instead, to the third row, and sat behind the couple watching the water.

"If I were on the run," I said smoothly, "the last thing I'd do is leave my back to the entrance." The two kids turned around, and the Puerto Rican girl's nose wiggled in that way I found so cute. I winked at her. "Just sayin'."

Ceela and Throok were in their human guises, but there were still plenty of similarities. Ceela's eyes were smaller, less exaggerated, but the same confident orbs sparkled within. Large gold hoops hung from each ear. Throok was imposing, even in his chair two rows below me, with a stripe of red across the center of his hair and through his matted beard. Their clothes were unassuming—jeans, baggy black shirts—and, of course, they had human legs. Silvans were masters of glamour, at least when it came to generalities, but they didn't possess magic to completely transform themselves. They couldn't change faces or skin color or height.

"At least you ditched the nose hoop," I told Throok.

He turned away from me and growled. Ceela clapped him on a big shoulder and laughed, taking it in stride.

"I'm impressed, wizard," she said, looking me over. "You've performed excellently."

A gruff snort. "I'm surprised you're still alive."

I ignored the crankypants. "You've done well for yourselves too, I see. Keeping your glamours on in our steppe for this long has to be taxing."

Ceela hiked a small shoulder. "Some might think so."

"You also did as you promised," I said. "My friend reported that the police abandoned my hideaway quickly after your arrival, and they haven't been back."

Throok spun around. "There was no one else there, wizard."

I clucked my tongue. "If that's true, then how'd I find you?"

They traded a nervous glance. I admit, I was impressed at the wraith's ability to hide as well. Neither the police nor the silvans detected his presence. I supposed keeping a foot in the Murk had its benefits.

The satyr chuckled abruptly, a bit too forcefully, pretending to be unruffled. "One of your pet spies. Of course!"

I didn't correct her. Ceela played it off but she was flustered by their lack of discretion.

"We shouldn't be near him," warned the minotaur.

"Our deal was done," she said, dismissing the subject. "We have no more business, Cisco Suarez."

"That's not exactly true," I said, presenting my left hand to them. "There's a snag that's not tied up. The little detail of a Nether mark."

The two avoided looking at the black crust wrapping my skin.

Throok turned away from me again. "This is trouble, Ceela. We should go."

She was less dismissive. "What do you expect from us?"

"I expect
something
because this is your fault. You owe me."

She huffed and crossed her arms, like what I was asking was impossible.

I leaned over the empty row of seats. "I heard silvan royalty can remove the black mark. Do you two have any connections?"

Their eyes locked. Then Throok snorted. "Not just any royalty, wizard. That is a faun curse. It must be lifted by faun royalty."

Great. Silvan society was full of arbitrary rules and addendums. It was a lot like American bureaucracy, or the US tax code. I wondered if they had lawyers whose entire job was interpreting the ancient ways.

"The Circle of Bone," explained Ceela. "I did grow up close to one. He was a friend that doted on me."

"Perfect," I said. "Let's talk to him."

She leveled her eyes flatly at me. "He's Orpheus."

I rolled my eyes. "The baron of the Circle of Bone."

"Barons," grunted the minotaur. "I—"

"Let me guess," I cut in. "You hate them."

Throok nodded. "Spoiled royalty, with their castes and proprieties."

The satyr pulled her head back. "Don't say that."

"You know what I mean," he said. "It's the reason we're in this situation."

I hopped a row of seats to get right behind them. "How so?"

They looked at each other and Ceela sighed. "Here it is. Orpheus is a powerful man. He stands to inherit quite a bit. But he's the youngest of three brothers, and the least qualified to take over the Bone. It's not going to happen. You see, he can be a bit whiny when he doesn't get what he wants."

"And that's you?"

She nodded. "I don't know how, but he bartered for my hand in marriage. By all precepts, I should be his."

"And you don't get a say?"

"Not this time. He's asked nicely before and I've refused. Every time." She sighed. "He had tender moments in his youth, but I don't love him."

Throok snorted. "The sniveling coward went above her head."

"Given his height," I said, "that's a tall order." Nobody laughed.

"I do have recourse," continued Ceela. "There is no rule of law forcing my hand, you see. It is an agreement between families, less of an arrangement and more of a bet. Orpheus was given seven days to stake his claim. Ten hours from now, when the sun sits at its peak in your sky, I will be free."

"What happens then?" I asked.

"His claim expires."

I wrinkled my forehead. "Just like that, he'll stop trying?"

Throok chuckled. "I can be convincing."

Ceela smiled and shook her head. "My friend won't need to intervene. And Orpheus will not stop trying to gain my favor. But he will abide by the wager. It is the way of our people."

I shook my head. What did I tell you about silvan politics?

"So for the next ten hours, you want me to wait around while every silvan kissing up to faun royalty tries to take me out?"

She smiled and wriggled her nose. Not so cute this time. "You've lived this long. I'm sure you can manage another night."

I frowned, wondering how much they were telling me was true. "How about I just stick around with you two until then? A sort of insurance."

Throok snorted loudly. His eyes turned red and a gold earring appeared, hanging on his nose. "You do not realize the danger you're putting us in, wizard. You must go or—"

"Danger?" I scoffed. "You're one to talk."

Ceela cut in. "He's right, Cisco Suarez. That stain you wear is a beacon to our kind. It marks you as quarry. Gives the hunters a target."

My words caught in my throat. I wondered again if I was being played, but their faces were dead serious. Call me a sucker, maybe. Cisco Suarez the sap. But don't call me cruel. Suddenly I understood why Romeo and Juliet were on edge.

A voice rang out from the platform above us. "You should listen to the kids," it said. "They know what they're talking about."

We all stood and faced the interloper (but not before Throok scowled at me like I was an idiot).

"Stay here," I muttered as I moved to the aisle and headed up the concrete stairs. I checked the rest of the stadium as I climbed, but as far as I could tell, he'd come alone. Alarms in my head still went off, though, no more overt than niggling static against my skin.

In the breezeway stood Simon Feigelstock with a salesman's smile.