Heart Strings (Black Magic Outlaw Book 3) (8 page)

 

 

 

 

I checked behind me. No incoming ambush. Kita was still gone. There was, of course, the light crowd and patio staff. But here, in the alley along the building, it was just me and him.

"You'd better know what you're getting into, Pinstripes," I warned gruffly.

The mage smiled and adjusted the cuffs of his yellow shirt. "Simon. Simon Feigelstock, actually, but most stick to Simon."

"I don't blame them. Now about you putting your hands on me..."

Simon lifted his hands in the air. The gesture was meant to be easing, to show he held no weapons, but he and I both knew his weapons were the spirits. Which spirits exactly were anyone's guess.

I scratched my chin and considered his lightning attack. "Zeus?" I guessed. Call it professional curiosity.

He shook his head like I'd given him a report card with all Ds. "What is it with everyone? Zeus? I mean, thousands of deities throughout human history, the literal sum of all world belief in the Intrinsics, and the best you could come up with is Zeus?" He turned away as though someone would magically appear and hear his appeal, but it was still just us.

"Don't take it personally, Simon. He was the first patron that came to mind."

"Of course he was! That's exactly my point. People don't even think to consider Ishkur the Thunderer."

I returned his gaze with a plain face.

"You know," he started. "Ancient Sumer? The Fertile Crescent? This is World History 101."

I shrugged. "I guess Mrs. Eddings glossed over the part about the Thunderer."

He smiled cheekily. "Cute. But I'll have you know Ishkur is one of the originals. He's been around the block a tad more times than Opiyelguobiran, that's for sure."

My face darkened, no magic involved. Simon knew the full name of my patron. He'd done his homework and probably knew all about me. "If you know who I am," I said carefully, "then you know getting into it right here's a bad idea."

Simon checked his comb-over. "Right you are. As I said, I just needed to get your attention. I prefer civility when possible."

I snorted. Over his shoulder and in the distance, Kita's rental car pulled along the drive and the red-haired man got in. They sped off. I should've marked her vehicle somehow.

"Say what you came here to say," I muttered.

"I respect you, Francisco."

"Cisco."

"Okay then. What you've accomplished. What you've acquired."

The Horn of Subjugation. That was the only thing he could mean. A powerful artifact capable of manipulating South Florida's voodoo community, and I had it locked in a safe.

"You have budding power," he continued. "A man of your background, I can respect that."

"Then respectfully get out of my way."

Simon chuckled nervously. He wasn't scared, however. Not that I could tell. He was simply working through how to explain something, as if speaking to a child. "You need to understand something, Cisco. What you're doing—it's bad business."

I narrowed my eyes. "Bad for who?"

"A collective of like-minded wizards."

"You've got to be kidding me. A wizard's guild?"

Simon smiled weakly. "Don't be so dramatic. We're not an ancient order of Templars or the Illuminati or anything."

"So what then? A lodge? A bunch of guys who ditch their wives so they can dress in robes and hang around a man cave trading silly rituals?"

Simon Feigelstock arched an eyebrow. "What is a man cave?"

I sighed. "Look, there is no collective of like-minded wizards. Anyone with our kind of power's a narcissist. Good luck finding a pair that agree on anything."

"Thank you for that fascinating bit of insight into the human condition." Simon rubbed the worn wrinkles on his forehead. "We are pragmatists. Businessmen with overlapping goals. We all work for ourselves, as you say, but find that aligning our efforts often yields more fruitful results. A weightier influence."

"Collective bargaining," I concluded.

"Now you've got it."

"Sounds more like a cartel to me."

Simon smiled, unfazed. "Cartels are good for business."

I furrowed my brow. Was this guy for real? I used to love reading comics, but an accurate representation of life they were not. Magic might exist, but a secret collective of wizards sounded like a bad urban fantasy novel. Corporate interests or no, it was farfetched.

"I've been around a while," I finally said. "How come I've never heard about you guys?"

He laughed off the question with a snobby guffaw. He respected me, my ass. His tone switched to full-on elitist. "We don't deal with
street-level
enforcement."

I snickered. "Fancy talk from a hired thug. The pinstripes aren't fooling anybody. You're dime-a-dozen cartel muscle, an enforcer protecting the interests of the bigger players."

The man swallowed but didn't respond immediately. That told me I'd nailed it. He stepped closer and admitted as much with a nod. "You've got it all figured out, Cisco. That means you know it's not just me you're dealing with. It's the 'bigger players' you mention that want you on board. So why don't you cut the one-man-army act and look at the big picture, huh?"

The big picture. If this painting that is my life gets any bigger it's gonna need the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel as a canvas. I gave the not-so-veiled threat appropriate consideration and frowned. "Offer declined. I don't wanna join the union."

Simon's jaw tightened. "It's not that simple."

"Why not? I saw the disdain in your eyes when you said 'street level.' I'm beneath you, so leave me alone and let me handle my business."

"You can't go around blasting prominent politicians without rubbing investors the wrong way."

City Commissioner Rudi Alvarez. I'd struck a nerve. "I didn't touch Rudi. It was a poltergeist that ripped up his front yard."

"Which is why this is only a warning," shot back Simon, coming full circle. "You want to smoke ghosts and vampires? Be my guest. But connected animists and politicians are off limits."

And there it was. Cisco Suarez had gotten too big for his britches, apparently. I nodded my head toward the street. "Is that what Redbeard is? Connected?"

Simon turned his head but saw the empty driveway. Something had him flustered. "That's what this is about?" he asked. He straightened his jacket and reclaimed a cool exterior. "And here I thought you were playing politics. That other man's a nobody. A political booster. He doesn't live here. He's only on Grand Cayman because Commissioner Alvarez and his chief of staff are priming candidates for a big fund-raiser in Miami. There's nothing amiss here."

"You and I must have different definitions of amiss. I know about the commissioner's hidden money."

"Well, you'll just need to forget about it."

I jutted my chin out. "Or what?"

Simon almost looked bored now. "Haven't you been listening? Or the Society will get involved. There's a lot more people to deal with than me. Believe me. That's why we call it the Society."

Confident. Aloof. Professional. I had the feeling Simon was dangerous.

"Something you should know about me," I said, stretching my fingers and then balling them into a fist. "I took orders for ten years. I'm done with that. So when people tell me what to do, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

He sighed. "Some sort of truce, then? No one will go after the other, as long as each behaves?"

I didn't get it. If his wizard cartel was so big and powerful, why was he dealing with a small-time shadow charmer like myself? Could be that the wraith had them scared, had them unsure of what exactly the Horn of Subjugation could do. Hell,
I
was unsure of what it could do.

"What about Kita Mariko?" I asked. "She protected too?"

Simon nodded slyly. So the mysterious Covey I was hell-bent on taking down had made more friends than just politicians and businessmen. The Covey was connected to the Society too. The one percent looking out for each other. Sure sounded like a cartel to me.

I laughed at the ridiculousness of it. "I get it. The paper mage cried foul. Did she happen to mention that she was intimately involved with my death and zombie servitude? Or is ten years outside the Society's statute of limitations?"

The enforcer tilted his head as if the offense was minor. "Truthfully? It was below our radar."

"That's right," I scoffed. "I forgot.
Street level
." If Simon wasn't trying to piss me off, he was doing a piss-poor job. "Tell me this," I said, stepping into his personal space now. "You and me. Right here, right now. This is the
street
, isn't it?"

There was a glimmer in his eye. For all his external etiquette, the man wanted to smack me down hard. I bet he looked forward to it.

Simon Feigelstock cleared his throat. "Fortunately, I don't need to get in your way. Not now. There's nowhere for you to go. Business concluded a day early. Connor and Kita are already at the airport by now."

A slight panic fluttered in my chest but I forced it down. The wizard cartel may have known about me, Simon may have gotten in my way and let the USB drive slip away, but I wasn't gonna give him the satisfaction of seeing my disappointment. Instead, I focused on the man's unintentional slip of the tongue.

"Connor?"

The enforcer worked his jaw, realizing his mistake, but said nothing.

"They headed back to Miami? To the fund-raiser you mentioned?"

Simon regained his composure and smiled. "You don't get it, Cisco. Any moment now, they'll be boarding a private jet headed to a private island. I'm done here. And so are you. The relevant parties have been warned and are beyond your reach."

The man in the pinstripe suit brushed past me to head back to the patio. My hand swiped the shadows, broke open my sawed-off shotgun to confirm it was loaded, and then snapped it closed and trained it at the back of his head. When Simon heard the click, he froze.

The Society enforcer turned to me slowly and adjusted his tie. "Put that thing away before someone gets hurt."

"That's the idea."

Impatience again. "Consider what it is you really want, Cisco. Then consider how utterly disconnected I am from it. You may not like me, but we're not enemies. Not yet, anyway."

"Just a jobber putting in the hours, are you?"

He winked at me. "Consider the truce. It's a fair offer. We could make your life difficult, but we haven't started yet. Maybe, when this all settles, we might even prosper together."

I licked at the blood still in my mouth and lowered the weapon. Simon Feigelstock smiled appreciatively and went on his way.

Whatever dirty dealings the man was into, he was right. It wasn't him that had killed me way back when. I didn't know fact one about the Society. It was an easy guess that they weren't about unicorns and rainbows, but I wasn't the spellcraft police.

Maybe one day they'd get in the way of what I wanted again. Maybe that one day was inevitable. Maybe, if it came to blows, I'd be better prepared and willing to take out Simon later.

But maybe I didn't need to deal with the wizard cartel at all. I'd never seen them in Miami before. Maybe their influence was more international. I reminded myself that I was in the Caymans only for information gathering, and I still had more to get.

I returned to the patio. Simon was gone now, just like my chance of pursuit. Kita may not have seen me tailing her, but
someone
had obviously known about me. At least now I knew about them too.

As I passed the cabana with the drawn curtains, I slipped inside. Still empty. No one had carelessly left behind a thumb drive with their evil plans on it. I wondered where that left me. Before I left I noticed the check on the table beside the empty wine glass. I couldn't make out the scribbled signature, but it kinda maybe started with a C.

Connor. Was he a booster? A connected animist? Another puppet, like Alvarez? I couldn't be sure of anything yet.

Redbeard may have been boarding a plane to a private island by now, but Simon said their business had concluded a day early. That meant everyone had planned on sticking around another night.

Whether Connor was still in town or not, I did have a new lead on a location of interest: his room number, 2417, was printed beside his signature on the check.

 

 

 

 

Back in the day I had a small-time voodoo partnership, but these last few weeks (after my "hiatus") introduced me to the joys of working alone. I was a private practitioner now, through and through. Only, all of a sudden, I was deep-rooted in Miami politics, Nether curses, and under the oppressive eye of one wizard cartel.

Cheer up, Cisco. You've made it to the big time.

I was dejected. I even (briefly) considered backing down. (Momentarily.) I saw the wisdom in backing down, at least. Yup, the benefits of not directly challenging a secretive collective of animists were reeeeal convincing, right up to the point that I broke into Connor's hotel room during maid service.

Hey, what can I say? I'm an opportunist.

I pretended I owned the place, asked for extra towels, and gave the nice lady a sizable tip—oh, and I ordered plentiful room service—all charged to Room 2417. High-end crab, shoestring fries, and a couple
cervezas
. It took the edge off.

Simon the enforcer must have been telling the truth about Connor leaving town because he didn't awkwardly walk in on me taking a shower or wearing his bathrobe and slippers. It wasn't all living the high life, though. I spent most of the time exhaustively searching the room for clues. Unfortunately, I didn't find any crumpled papers in the trash with secret codes revealing his next whereabouts. I even ran a pencil over the pad of paper by the phone but, lo and behold, it turns out people don't write down messages anymore. I would've attempted the old redial trick on the hotel phone, but I realized the last call was me ordering food.

This is why I'm not a private investigator.

Luckily, I did find a spare key card for the room sitting on the nightstand in an envelope with the Wi-Fi code. Connor had probably kept one and dropped the copy here. That meant no more brushes with the cleaning crew. I wiped the fossils of room service off the bed (to the floor) and took a load off. I could get used to king-size beds and bathrobes.

Thoughts of the Society intruded on my leisure. I wasn't sure what to make of them. Having bigger players involved changed the playing field, like every other episode of Dragon Ball Z. My investigation was swerving dangerously close to cartoon territory. Laughable or not, this new collective had to be taken seriously.

I didn't doubt that the Society had dirty laundry, but that didn't mean they cared about my used boxer briefs. They had their jumbo-sized hamper and I had my pile on the floor. It wasn't much, but I had enough to worry about without sharing a load. (I bet you never heard a guy go on with a dirty laundry metaphor so long before.)

The point is, we didn't have to come to blows. But that didn't mean I bought into their claim of neutrality either. I did, however, believe that I'd been under their radar. I was the Covey's business. So why was the Society involved at all?

It was obvious why they went to bat for the paper mage. Rudi Alvarez is a prominent politician. Until now I'd assumed all the money he embezzled was for personal gain. Now I had to consider the Covey's and the Society's interests as well. What a tangled web greed weaves.

I began to see the lack of confrontation so far as a good thing. Sure, I'd backed Rudi into a corner and he'd set loose his dogs—he was still after me—but he was never calling the shots. Finding him in the Caymans wouldn't have netted me much more than I already had.

I tossed over the details in my head. It felt good to slow down, drink a beer, and investigate while I decided how to handle my larger problems.

I raided the minibar, hung a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door knob, and smuggled a couple beers and a pack of Peanut M&Ms to the hotel office beside the downstairs lobby. Perfect, an empty room and a computer. It took some doing, but I found references to the owner of the hotel: one Connor Hatch. No pictures, but the woman from the hot tub had said that the guy acted like he owned the place. Maybe that was because he actually did.

Going off that name, I found Connor had a background in security services and was an investor in several companies. He also had strings of real estate in the Caribbean, Nicaragua, Panama, and Venezuela. I never found reference to his residence or private island ownership. If Simon was bullshitting about that, then maybe Connor was still within reach.

I didn't have much and soon ran out of ideas for searches. Maybe he
was
just a booster. A man with money. Connected.

Then I considered another name I'd been meaning to research. Henry Hoover: father of Kita Mariko and Emily Cross, world traveler and real-estate tycoon, and murder victim of Cisco Suarez. I shivered. The Covey ordered his death for a reason.

Henry's properties were now owned by his daughters. At the height of his equity, his real estate was perhaps on par with Connor's, less extravagant but spread around the world. He was Australian born and had a lot of business there and in Asia before his later years in Latin America. He developed a lot of property for housing contracts, so his influence was always shifting around. I made notes of several Grand Cayman properties, but nothing stood out. These leads would require boots on the ground.

I also did some ancillary searches on Covey members, but didn't turn up much. The former head of security (and volcanic elemental) hadn't resurfaced since being fired. There wasn't any history on him. It bugged me that he was missing, if only because I couldn't see him coming. Then there was the question of Rudi Alvarez. I had hoped to find him here but only ran into Kita.

But the politician's business did result in a hit. His new pet project, the Passport to Latin America, a business initiative with South Florida, the Caribbean, and Central and South America. A joint project to enrich trade. That was the business his office had said he was in the Caymans for. That was the business he should have been attending to. And the primary fund-raiser event was being held in Miami three days hence.

"Gotcha, Rudi," I said. It had taken a day and a half to sail here. If I left tomorrow afternoon, I'd have all morning to prepare for the event. It's not that I thought Rudi could tell me anything new, but having a private one-on-one might convince him to call off his dogs. At times I could be... persuasive.

Eventually, my beers and my mind were all dry, and I figured I'd done enough work for my first day in the Caymans. I checked the lobby and shops for familiar faces. I ordered a beer when I found the patio free of animists and wandered to the beach. Maybe it was the alcohol or the night sky (probably the alcohol), but I figured I'd earned a break. I hiked out to the sand and found a hotel chair to collapse in.

The sound of the waves worked wonders on my soul. Some magic has nothing to do with spirits and everything with being human. I sipped my beer and let the stress melt away. Vigilante justice was hard work. Too bad I didn't have time to take another day out here. You know, to "investigate leads." With the cash I saved on the hotel room, I could swing the extra expenses.

A shuffle of sand behind me jolted my eyes open. A flash of blonde hair fell over my head before two hands from behind covered my eyes.

"Guess who?" came an alluring voice.

With the blonde hair, my first thought was Emily. It wasn't logical or reasonable, but it was what my body wanted. Of course, it wasn't her and I knew it.

I let out a long breath and eased back into the chair, glad I hadn't pulled my shadow trick. "Um..." I slow played her. "Let's see. I've met so many gorgeous women in hot tubs today."

Jade laughed and uncovered my eyes, immediately going for a playful pat on my shoulders. I was wearing the tank with the trunks now, figuring for a cool breeze, but the air was warm anyway. So was Jade as she sat sideways in my lap.

Despite her voluptuous figure, she wasn't heavy at all. No sir, she could stay there all night.

"Wedding over?" I asked.

"That's not for another day," she said, lifting her arms above her head and pulling her long hair back. The resulting effect on her chest was... seductive. The thin white triangles of her bathing suit strained against her breasts, and she held the pose just long enough for me to know it was on purpose. There was something about her skin that was riveting. Pinker than I was used to in Miami and most of what I'd seen in the Caribbean. She seemed untouched by the sun.

"So how goes your complicated personal life?" she asked with a smirk.

"It doesn't seem so complicated at the moment."

"No?" She wiggled in my lap and put her arm around me. "I'm not surprised. Vacations simplify things."

I shrugged and locked my arms around her waist. Her bare skin was cool to the touch. I thought about ripping off the wrap she wore to see how the rest of her bare skin felt. She must have read my mind.

"Mr. Cisco!" she said with a mock gasp. "Behave yourself!"

"It's Suarez," I said. "And you're just gonna have to deal with fast-and-loose Cisco Suarez tonight. I've had a few beers. Believe it or not, I'm not a big partier."

She giggled and grabbed my half-empty bottle, chugging most of it.

"I guess you've had a few too."

She winked and upturned it in my mouth until it was dry. I took the empty bottle and pitched it in the sand. She was already onto rubbing my forearm tattoo.

"What's this mean?" she asked.

Oh, just an ancient Nordic power symbol that looks like an arrow, but is really just one branch of a more powerful sigil called the Helm of Awe. "I like arrows," I said, realizing I didn't have a cover story for my tattoos yet.

She nodded. "I like tattoos."

"I've got another," I said, producing my left palm. She jumped when she saw the black mark covering my hand. I did too, a little. The mark was darker than before, like a rot was setting in. It had spread to cover my entire palm, too. I told myself my skin was fine. It was just a hex. Something I needed to look into when I got back to Miami.

"Sorry," I said, closing my fist. "Forgot I burned myself." Jade's eyes widened and I could tell she wanted to ask about it. I tried to change the subject. "Do you have any tattoos?"

She smiled again and shifted in my lap, looking over her shoulders as she turned her back to me. Her lashes fluttered and she looked down, curving her back so her butt was pressed close. Message received, loud and clear. Now I really wanted to peel her wrap off. When I reached, she jumped off me and skittered away.

"You wanna do something crazy?" she asked, looking up and down the beach. The company was surprisingly sparse.

"Let's get married and get tattoos declaring our love for each other," I said.

Jade rolled her eyes. "I really need to spell it out for you, don't I?" She unwrapped the cloth at her waist and tossed it toward me. The wind carried it into my face. When I brushed it aside, Jade was racing to the ocean.

"Don't have to spell
that
out," I murmured.

I followed her with a too-cool-for-school walk, but I was really just buying time. I was a bit nervous. I'd only been the well-muscled, attractive-to-girls Cisco Suarez for three weeks, and most of that time I'd been fighting for my life. The chance to have fun, to be normal—scratch that—to be exceptional, had hardly occurred to me.

I was single. Missed most of my twenties and early thirties. My old girlfriend was married to my best friend. Hell, I was on
vacation
in the
Caymans
on a
private beach
in a
luxury resort
with a
beautiful woman
. What was I weighing my options for? Like Jade had said, vacations simplify things.

Already knee-deep in the water, she beckoned me and walked backward. I pulled off my tank top and headed in. She hopped away playfully but I closed the distance in no time. The water fought against us as we trekked along the sandbar, chest deep. Jade giggled and laid her back against a gentle wave, but dashed further before I could reach her. Then she unhooked her bikini top. Her blonde hair was matted down by water that flowed down her shoulders and over her breasts. They bounced as she hopped furtively away. Then she sank to her neck, depriving me of the view.

I pushed ahead until we were only a few yards apart, her seductively backing away, me joining the dance. Jade's smile had a dastardly tinge to it, and she let her chest surface once more to tease me onward.

We walked deeper into the sea, pushing through gentle current, the tension building between us, before she raised her hand for me to stop. I obeyed, but my face made it clear she couldn't hold me off for long. Her eyebrows arched in pleasure.

"It's beautiful out here," she said. She was right.

Seven Mile Beach was stunning this far out. The sandbar stretched an impossible distance from the shoreline. I could see the entire curve of the island. The ocean was calm, the waves slow and steady, very conducive to what I had in mind. When the other half of Jade's swimsuit floated to the surface, I knew she agreed. I couldn't hold back anymore.

I closed in as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Her breasts squeezed against my chest. She pulled my mouth down into hers. We kissed, both hungry from our hunt, impossible to sate. She shook a little as the tension fled her body then pulled back and ran her hand over my chest.

"You're a good kisser," she said softly.

"I'm good at other things."

She smiled. "I almost regret having to do this." Then she yanked my head underwater with her full weight.

Bubbles rushed past my face, disorienting me. I thought she was playing rough at first, but her grip was strong. Somehow, I was upside down, the comforting sandbar out of reach.

I thrashed in the water, looking for purchase, trying to shake free. I batted her arms away and she spun around me. Between the bubbles, I caught a glimpse of a large fish body snaking after Jade, each scale as green as her namesake.