Those Who Fight Monsters (28 page)

“There’s nothing to find! There’s personal … stuff about business that’s none of yours.”

I glared at Carmine, meeting those cold eyes with steel blue ones that were beginning to glow with magical fire. “So you’re telling me that even though I’m
positive
the reason you were beaten up was only to
distract
you from the real reason for their visit, you don’t care? You want me to just kill them, without finding out what they wanted or why? Jeez, your personal and business life have
already
been compromised! Are you positive that the damage hasn’t already been done, while your people had no idea you were laid up in the hospital?” I paused while his pulse pounded under his skin so loud I’d swear it was coming out of speakers in the walls. “Tell me, Carmine. Be honest. Are you really pig-headed and stubborn enough to risk everything you have just to keep your little secrets — that I don’t give a damn about anyway?”

Sometime in the middle of my little rant he went still and thoughtful. The gears I knew he had in that grey matter finally jump-started. He raised up one hip to sit partway on the table. His face, and scent, went through a dozen emotions, before finally settling on the dry heat smell of embarrassment.

“Okay, so what’s the plan? Let’s say I give you my wallet.” He shot a glare at Lucas, who glared back — two junkyard dogs sizing each other up. “
Just
you. Do you know what you’re looking for?”

I nodded. “The last thing he pulled out was a slip of paper, about the size of a post-it note with fringed edges. An old photograph, maybe? It was on the left side and he had to dig to get it out.” Actually, I knew it was a photo. I’d even seen the image, but it didn’t make sense. It was just a photo of a long brick wall with no other identifying marks.

Carmine had gone still again, but this time he wasn’t embarrassed. He was nervous. He pulled out his wallet like a snake after a mouse. Any inhibition he’d had was lost as he nearly tore apart the soft suede. Pictures, credit cards, money, receipts and all manner of cryptic notes were tossed on the table as he frantically looked for whatever wasn’t there. A solid five minutes went by while he opened every paper, made sure the missing item wasn’t attached to anything, and re-probed every pocket, pouch and slit in the leather.

When he finally gave up, he stood staring at the pile of papers that constituted his life, looking older than I’d ever seen him. It only lasted a moment and then he smiled. The flash of teeth was completely empty of meaning and everyone in the room knew it. “Eh. No big deal. Wouldn’t mean anything to anyone but me.”

“What’s missing?” Lucas demanded. “I’d suggest you talk to us before you start talking to those who can
make
you talk.”

Carmine shrugged, the patently false smile abandoned. He turned his back so we couldn’t see his face. “Just an old photo of some architecture. Something my dad took years ago. Like I said, only important to me.”

I didn’t know much about Carmine’s father — only that he was raised in Chicago around the Capone era. He didn’t settle down and get married until he was nearly sixty, and most of Carmine’s friends thought Marco was his grandfather, instead of his dad.

Lucas made a gesture, pointing to my hands and then to Carmine. I knew what he wanted and I didn’t disagree. This conversation would go a lot faster if I just did another hindsight. I don’t really like doing two in one day on a person, but this was taking for-freaking-
ever
! I pulled off one of the black leather gloves I have to wear to keep from getting accidental images from people — but then froze and raised my nose in the air. Lucas did the same, but got a frustrated look on his face. He can’t smell things like he used to anymore, and it drives him nuts. But he’s still got eyes, and he used them … scanning around the room to try to see anything out of place. I shook my head and pointed toward the door and then thumped Carmine on the shoulder hard enough to make him jump and turn around.

The scent that was coming under the door was a peculiar one that I’d smelled before. I wasn’t raised on a farm, but I’ve stood in a field of cantaloupes, right at the point when the whole lot was about to turn and go moldy inside. The smell is nearly overpowering — musty, sweet and slightly rotten. I carefully drew my Taurus back-up revolver from my ankle holster and wasn’t at all surprised that Carmine and Lucas produced guns as well. I smeared the polish on the clean, shining mahogany table by using my finger to write:
snakes
.

There was a polite knock on the door, followed by a woman’s voice. “Room service.”

I raised my brows at Carmine and he shook his head firmly. He didn’t order, and
we
didn’t order, so it was a trap. He got the hint of me rolling my finger at him and called out “Just a second,” as if he was in the bathroom.

Snakes don’t have the best hearing, so they probably wouldn’t hear if we kept our voices to the barest whisper. “Is there a back way out of here,” I said, “or do we take them on? I’m pretty sure there’s more than one out there.”

Carmine paused longer than I liked, and I leaned so close to his face that he could probably smell cinnamon toothpaste. “Unless you want your kid to grow up
without
a dad, you’d better start spilling. I can take one of them, maybe two, barehanded, but understand that even one shot will bring the cops.”

A second knock turned his head toward the door and to the shadows that moved across the sunlit carpeting, showing there were at least four feet on the other side. With a tiny, disgusted noise from the back of his throat, he turned and hurried into the separate bedroom. It was a gorgeous room, befitting a hotel of the Fairmont Palliser’s reputation. But I was pretty sure that most rooms didn’t have a bookcase that swung out from the wall when a portion of the baseboard was pressed.

He waved us through just as I heard a cardkey being inserted into the door in the outer room and the tiny high pitched whine as the lock released. He got the wall closed just in time and the thick, flat steel bar that slid into the oak header would make sure that nobody followed us — at least not
quickly.

We had to squeeze against the wall to let him pass, then followed him down an old iron staircase that seemed like it might have been attached to the outside of the building once upon a time. I knew Lucas was burning up with curiosity, just like I was. But now wasn’t the time to ask. Not until we were in a more defensible position.

The staircase descended several floors and when the temperature of the walls changed, I was pretty sure we were at the basement level, or below. In a moment, I was proved right. The sounds of metallic thumping and hissing came from behind the wall at the end of the staircase and Carmine put his eye up to what appeared to be a peep hole into the outer area. After a long moment, as I listened to the snakes tearing things apart in the upper room, he slid back a steel bar that was a twin of the one above. The door pushed outward smoothly and we stepped out, into a back corner of the boiler room.

There was something about the boiler room of the Palliser Hotel that set off alarm bells in my mind, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. So, rather than do something as potentially fatal as asking one of the people in the room with me, I went to the ‘intercom’ in my head.

While it’s taken some getting used to, one unique thing about werewolf mates is that they’re telepathically tied to each other. In sticky situations like this, being in instant contact with my wife was often more useful than an extra clip of ammo.

Sue?

Hey, lover. What’s up? Her voice was warm and slightly sleepy. She’s been working a lot of late nights, also for Wolven, and supposedly had the day off. So I’ve been trying to stay out of her head. We’re getting better at shutting out the other person from our day to day thoughts. It had been making both of us a little squirrely.

Palliser Hotel, in Calgary. See if you can find anything online about the basement. I’m remembering something in the back of my head, but since we’re being chased by snakes right now, I don’t want to spend the brainpower to figure it out.

Snakes?
Uh-oh. Not good. The word made her nervous enough that the walls were breaking down in our heads. I was starting to see our bedroom overlaid on the machinery. The furnace grate was wearing a burgundy coverlet and the brick walls had drapes.

Whoa, we’re fine. Okay? I’m here with Lucas and Carmine and we’re all armed. I don’t think they even know where we are. We booked it out of the room as soon as I smelled them. But Carmine’s hiding something and I need to know what. I’m going to shut the vault door now, so knock before you come back in.

She took a deep mental breath and calmed. Okay, sorry. I’m just still having nightmares about snakes from the attack last fall. It’ll pass. I’ll find what I can and get back to you.

I felt a bump against my shoulder and turned my head before I turned my gun. Sure, it was only Lucas, but still —
Getting sloppy, Giodone.

He must have noticed that I was having trouble focusing, because he stopped and waited for a moment. “You back with us? Getting a vision?”

One of the nice things about Lucas is he’s been around seers his whole life,
and
he was mated up until he turned back human. “Having Sue do some research on her end while we’re getting out of here.”

He looked at me for a long moment, likely wondering just
what
I was having her research, but he didn’t say anything in front of Carmine. Instead, he motioned around the room with his Ruger. “Getting anything?”

I had done a quick scan when we stepped through the hidden door, but did another just to be safe. “All clear … although there have been snakes down here pretty recently. No more than a week.”

Carmine frowned, as well he should. The guys who beat the crap out of him were snake shifters. He was damned lucky he wasn’t turning on the moon like me. He’d originally attributed the attack to a South American mafia trying to get back an ancient artifact one of his people stole. Now, it looked like it might be something entirely different. “I just got here a week ago. Think it’s coincidence?”

Lucas and I turned at once and both stared at him. I mean …
duh
. “You tell me,” I said.

He didn’t respond, but just stared at me, which was weird. Here he’s worried about snakes, who have been in the room recently, and he’s only got
my
word the room is clear, but he’s
not
looking around the room, checking out every shadow. That’s very unlike him. He’s even more paranoid than me.

Tony? I’ve got your answer.

Not the warning I asked for, but there isn’t anything critical going on anyway. What’cha got?

There’s a secret tunnel in the boiler room of the Palliser.

Ah! That’s where I remember it. It was in one of those ‘Secrets of’ series of books — strange things about major cities. Okay. Just came down the tunnel. Staircase to the fourth floor, right?

There was a pause. Um … no. That’s not mentioned. This one is an old laundry tunnel that goes under the railroad tracks and veers east for a few blocks. Seems that years ago, the hotel cleaned all the linens a couple blocks away. It’s sealed off in the boiler room, but the tunnel’s still there.

Little pieces were starting to fall together in my head, but it would require a little private detecting later, when nobody was around.

There are a lot of times when the local police are handy to our kind. One of those times is when people ransack rooms looking for things. It was short work to install Carmine at a different hotel and have Babs — my private name for Barbara Herrera, call the hotel and complain that someone with a master key broke into the room and robbed her while she was napping. We got her back up to the room the same way as we got out, long after the snakes were gone. The security cameras would definitely show the door being opened with a key. Apparently, they’d been coming and going through the secret staircase to avoid cameras showing Carmine and Linda out of the country, so as far as the cameras were concerned, they’d never left the room.

Less than two hours after I’d left, I was back in the laundry room.

I didn’t smell anything I hadn’t smelled before and saw no glowing evidence of other Sazi in the room before I slipped inside. But when I felt the cold press of a gun barrel to my temple, I knew I hadn’t been careful enough. I dutifully raised my hands while I was relieved of my weapons. But since she was human, and it was the first night of the moon I still had an advantage.

The thick Russian accent from the woman was a surprise. “Where is the box?”

“Box?” This was news to me.

The question earned me a swipe across the back of the skull with the gun, hard enough to make me realize this was no human. I wound up sprawled face down, spitting blood from kissing the concrete. “Do not toy with me, wolf. Why else would you return to the tunnel?”