Smoke and Ashes (41 page)

Four down, twenty-three to go.

 

“Okay, Jack and Leah will keep mapping out the sites, so we don't have to figure out how to deal on the fly—they get the information back to CB; he works out the plan. I use the location search cover for the shopping mall and the restaurant and the garage while Amy runs interference.” Tony picked the list up off CB's desk and shoved it in his back pocket. “That's a start anyway.”

“If you want, I could stay here and plan with CB while Lee runs interference,” Amy offered.

“Mr. Nicholas is working this morning,” CB growled. “In spite of the damage to my building, we are still attempting to shoot a television show here.”

She rolled her eyes. “No point in saving the world if we can't save
Darkest Night?
”

“No point at all.” He wasn't kidding.

 

“No, no, they'll walk through the actual mall, but the chase scene will play out here in the gritty back corridors of commerce.” Amy's voice drifted around the corner to where Tony was pushing runes between the brackets that had once held some kind of storage rack. “It'll be an exotic locale with lots of atmospheric shadows and very little chance of anything expensive getting broken.”

The head of mall security snorted. “That's almost exactly what your boss said when he called.”

“Yeah, well, he's big on nothing expensive getting broken.”

 

It was harder to spot the shimmers without Leah beside him playing Marco Polo with her belly, and a scrawled note directing them, “Toward the back of the restaurant,” wasn't a lot of help. Tony took an embarrassingly long time to find the weak spot on the wall of the walkin freezer.

“Is there something missing here?” he asked the restaurant manager.

“Yeah, used to be a set of shelves that bolted to the wall. We took 'em out about a month ago, why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Yeah? Well, I'm wondering what a vampire's going to be detecting in my freezer.”

“Aliens,” Amy drew the manager back out into the kitchen. “Kept on ice by the CIA. But don't worry, no one will ever connect this freezer to your restaurant, so you won't be overrun by hordes of alien conspiracy freaks. Unless you want to be.”

 

“No, it's like there's this car accident, see, and they bring the car back here. But Raymond Dark suspects that it wasn't an accident and that the car didn't really hit a tree. Okay, it did hit a tree, but the tree really did jump out into the road.”

The way the garage owner and both mechanics were hanging on Amy's every word, not to mention her cleavage and the very, very short skirt she was wearing over the black tights and combat boots, Tony figured he could have turned the '63 Thunderbird on the rack into a pumpkin and none of them would have noticed. Not that he'd do anything so heinous to such a wicked ride, but still.

Later, he mentioned that she was disturbingly good at coming up with freaky story ideas.

“I know.” She slouched lower in the seat and pulled out her phone to call the office. “It scares me a bit, too.”

 

Seven down.

Tony had an entire barbecued chicken for lunch, a 500-gram tub of potato salad, and three organic bananas Amy made him eat for the potassium. He was hungry, sure, but he still felt great. That last healing had totally been worth it.

“Leah's marked two more construction sites I can do after dark. If I can get another three tears sealed up this afternoon, well, I'm starting to think we might actually be able to win this.”

“I am uplifted by your confidence. Another banana?”

“No, thanks. Three's fine.”

 

“For the last time, Mr. White has been called away, and I don't care what television show you're from; no one goes into his office without his permission.”

“I keep trying to tell
you
,” Amy sighed, “that my boss phoned and spoke to your boss, and he said it wouldn't be a problem. We'll just be in and out.”

Mr. White's secretary—executive assistant? Pit bull? Tony had no idea—folded her hands into what shouldn't have even remotely resembled a threatening position. Shouldn't have. Did. “Mr. White left no such instructions with me. You'll have to come back tomorrow when Mr. White is in the building.”

“But…”

“Tomorrow.”

“Will he be in later today?”

One perfectly plucked brow rose. “What did I just say?”

“Come back tomorrow?”

She smiled, not exactly in approval. “Did you want to make an appointment?”

“We had an appointment!”

“So you say. Not that it matters as Mr. White isn't here.”

“Okay. Fine. We'll make an appointment.”

“I'm sorry. Mr. White has no time tomorrow. Would Thursday fit your schedule?”

“What happened to Wednesday?”

“He's in court on Wednesday.”

Amy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Mr. Bane will call Mr. White again and set something up. We'll be back.”

Mr. White's secretary seemed unimpressed.

“That was a fucking waste of time we don't have.” Tony sagged against the elevator wall and glared at their reflections in the stainless steel. “I should come back with a Notice Me Not on and just boogie by.”

“I thought you didn't know how to get noticed again after you did a Notice Me Not.”

“Yeah, well. Flaw in a brilliant plan.” Without Henry around to call him back, he'd be stuck unnoticed.

“I say we just let the demon trash Mr. White's office.” Amy snorted, rocking forward and back, heel to toe.

“Works for me. This could be one of the ones I don't get to.”

“Unless you get to all of them, shut Mckaseeh down cold.”

“Not going to happen.”

Her lip curled. “Not with that attitude.”

“Not with only twenty-four hours in a day.”

“Time travel!”

“No.” He locked eyes with her reflection so she'd know he was serious. “No messing around with time. It's a lot more dangerous than demons.”

“And you don't know how to give us more time anyway, do you?”

So much for that whole locking eyes thing. “Well, no.”

She bounced, once, happy with her victory. “I wonder what's missing in Mr. White's office?”

“He's a lawyer,” Tony muttered, as the elevator door opened and he pushed past a neoprene-covered bicycle messenger and out into the lobby. “Where to start…”

 

“Ms. Wong, please. If you could just wait for a couple more minutes. We're stuck in traffic. Yes, I realize you'd like to go, but…We're coming in on Hastings. No, that probably wasn't the best idea at this time of day. Just give us fifteen…” Amy glanced over at Tony who raised his right hand, fingers spread. “…twenty minutes. No, we won't be long once we get there. I promise. Thank you. We won't be long, will we?” she asked, closing her phone.

“Hard to say, the old Carnegie Library probably has…Hey!” He broke off his explanation to yell at the car ahead of them. “What are your fucking turn signals for, asshole!” And broke back on at: “…a shitload of nooks and crannies. It could take a while to find the exact position of the weak spot without Leah.”

“I don't think we're going to have a while.”

“You said the library was open until ten every day, Sunday to Monday. And this is Monday.”

“The person CB spoke to is only there until five and, if you'll recall, our plans did not enjoy much success in the absence of Mr. White.”

Tony sighed and geared down. “I'm clinging to the hope that librarians are more helpful than lawyers.”

Wizards had the same trouble everyone else did finding a parking space in Chinatown at nearly five on a weeknight. Or any other time for that matter. He thought about parking illegally and putting a Notice Me Not on the car but was afraid he wouldn't be able to find it again later. They got to the library at 5:21. Ms. Wong was not impressed. Nor was she impressed by their desire to just wander around and “get the feel of the place.”

“You are not the first people who have wanted to use our interior in their television show.” She folded her arms and the toe of one sensible black pump tapped lightly on the tile. “You're not even the first people this month. Tell me the effect you're looking for, and I will take you where you need to go. This does not have to take the rest of the evening.”

“Couldn't you just hand us over to the evening staff?” Amy asked.

“No. You're my responsibility, and the evening staff has work of their own to do. What do you need?”

“Well…”

“We need a place where something's missing.” Tony stepped into Amy's pause.

The librarian frowned, stared at him for a long moment, and said, “There's a cushion missing off one of the seats in the reading room. Someone walked off with it last week.”

“That's a good place to start. If you could…” He gestured and waited.

She stared at him for a moment longer and then shrugged, the barest lifting of one worsted shoulder. “This way.”

 

Eight down; nineteen to go.

“Talk about a hot seat,” Amy snickered. “Some guy's sitting there, reading a newspaper and pow, demon up the ass.”

Tony suppressed any thought of Ryne Cyratane in that context.

“I called the office when you were closing that last one because Ms. Wong didn't need to be distracted, and CB says the next one is another private house and Lee's going to meet us there at seven.”

“Why?”

“Teenage daughters.”

Okay. “Why at seven?”

“Because you've got to eat. And,” she added before he could suggest they hit a drive-through and eat in the car, “because CB's estimating another half hour before Peter's through with Lee for the day.”

“Oh, for…” Tony accelerated through a yellow light. “I think saving the world from demons is more important than getting Lee's last shot.”

Amy snorted. “No, you don't.”

No, he didn't.

“So why'd you just tell that librarian you needed a place where something was missing?”

Good question. “Honesty is the best policy?”

“As if.”

“I thought she'd understand. She looked like she'd been…” He searched desperately for a less PAX TV way of saying it and couldn't find one. “…touched by magic.”

Folding her knees up by her chest, Amy propped her boots on the dashboard. “Touched by who?”

“I don't know.”

But she was a good-looking woman and he knew Henry Hunted in that part of the city.

 

“That sounds absolutely fascinating, ladies.”

Tony could hear the smile in Lee's voice and knew that Mom and both girls were basking in full-on Lee Nicholas charm. There'd been shrieking when the door had first been opened and constantly babbling as the whole group of them headed upstairs. When it looked like the babbling might ease up, Lee merely asked a question or made a comment and they were off again.

Dad had retreated behind a copy of the
Vancouver Sun
pretty much immediately.

Tony faced the five closed doors at the top of the stairs and pointed toward the northeast corner where Leah had placed the weak spot. “That room.”

“Oh, my God!” The fourteen-year-old grabbed at Lee's sleeve. “That's my room.”

“May I see it?”

Tony would have shown him anything if asked in that tone. If the renewed shrieking was any indication, he wasn't the only one. Fourteen raced in to tidy up while her sixteen-year-old sister tried to convince Lee that her room was infinitely better. Mom pointed out that he'd find the master suite not only bigger but more comfortable. The wink, wink, nudge, nudge was strongly implied.

Once in fourteen's bedroom, after his vision adjusted to the Day-Glo
That ‘70s Show
decorating, Tony discovered that the closet door was missing, replaced by a curtain of multicolored beads. The weak spot filled the space. With any luck, it was practice making the shimmer easier to see, not the imminent arrival of a host of demons.

“I might need to look at the other bedrooms,” Lee said thoughtfully, when Tony gave him the sign.

More shrieking.

It suddenly became clear why Lee was willing to face demons. Demons were quieter.

 

Nine down. Eighteen demons were still eighteen demons too many.

“Where to after this?” Lee asked sotto voce as they walked side by side down the porch stairs. This prime space had opened up when Mom had been forced to physically intervene before an argument over who'd walk beside Lee to the curb had come to blows.