Wicked City (15 page)

In the interest of civility, I overlooked the slur. “So I need you to go to the mayor and tell him that.”

He whistled. “The mayor! Next you'll be asking me to drop in on Hoover! Flying high, are you, Charity?”

“Even you can't be ignorant of the vote this Monday. The mayor wants to know about the first week of distribution. If you go to him and tell him that you don't have anything, then I'll help you.”

“Why not just send him your genie?” he asked.

Damn. I'd been hoping that Nicholas hadn't quite figured out my relationship with Amir. “He's not my genie,” I lied. “I haven't seen him since I last saw you. You're the one I can find, so you're the one who I need to meet the mayor.”

He looked away from me and out the soot-encrusted window at the end of the hall. “And what do you get out of this, Charity?” he asked softly. “Beau Jimmy made you his beau?”

“Beau Jimmy has offered to help me out of some trouble in exchange,” I said. I couldn't possibly explain that I was in danger of being arrested for saving the life of the same young boy that he and his gang had turned in the first place.

But Nicholas just shrugged. “If you say so,” he said. “I can do that. But I want something too, Charity.”

“I already said I'd help you!”

“I don't give a shit. Only thing I care about is getting into that morgue. You help me do that, I talk to the mayor. I gotta see Kevin with my own eyes.”

“Why, Nicholas?”

“He talked before he went. He vomited like the other one, but not so much, and then he turned to me and I held him and he was
breathing
all in and out and I swear I felt his heart beat. And he said
‘Got turned back, Nick,'
and then his eyes rolled back and he didn't speak no more. And here's the thing: I've never heard of a sucker ever dying without popping.”

“Maybe this poison is different,” I said, though I didn't really believe it.

“Maybe they ain't suckers when they die,” he said. “You can ask the mayor to get us in.”

“Maybe I could ask Mrs. Brandon,” I said slowly. “But you have to talk to the mayor tomorrow, got it?”

“How do I know you'll keep your word?”

“You call me Charity, don't you? I promise. And I want to see those bodies, too.”

My curiosity, if nothing else, convinced him. “Then I'll give Jimmy a big surprise tomorrow,” he said. His mouth twisted. “And if you're lying…”

From the look in his eyes, I wouldn't fare much better than the actual killer. I backed away. “I promise. In the meantime, could you give me the bottle you stole? I'll see what I can learn.”

Nicholas gave me that childish smile that was anything but innocent. “You'll get it tomorrow,” he said. “Good to see you again, Charity.”

“You too, Nick,” I said, and surprised myself by meaning it.

I showed him to the roof since I didn't want Aileen to start screaming. I hoped she would be asleep, but when I came back inside, I found her sitting on my bed.

“Strange friends, Zeph,” she said, balefully.

“If someone's poisoning vampires, I have to know.”

She sighed. “You know Judith Brandon?”

“Were you listening?”

“Of course I was.”

“Judith met me with the mayor,” I said. “She mentioned something about the Spiritualist Society.”

Aileen yawned and toddled back to her bed. “She's one of the regulars at my readings.”

“Really?” I feigned surprise, remembering Amir's abashed confession over dinner yesterday.

“Don't sound so surprised. There's lots of respectable ladies at my meetings.”

“And she wants to talk to the dead?”

“Don't they all?”

“Anyone in particular?”

“Her husband.”

“Has he said anything?” I felt awkward even asking. Aileen and I had a tacit agreement not to talk about the details of her work at the Society.

“Not a bleeding word. I'm starting to think he's left her for his mistress in Mallorca and she just comes to keep up appearances, but I do what I'm told.”

I tried to keep silent, but the words came out anyway. “Aileen, have you thought you might—”

“I'm having my biggest night yet, tomorrow. ‘
LEGENDARY IRISH SEER PEERS THROUGH THE MISTS TO ANSWER LIFE'S QUESTIONS
,' or so say the flyers. I know Judith will be there, probably a few other people who might know a thing or two about these dead vampires. You want to come?”

I smiled, though I felt like I'd lost. “Sure, Aileen. That sounds like a great idea.”

I had a hard time falling asleep. I rehearsed all the possibilities for the next few important days until I felt exhausted just thinking of it: Aileen's séance Thursday, the mayor's dinner Saturday, Sofia's summoning Sunday, and—of course—the Faust vote Monday.

I didn't fall back asleep until dawn, and when I did it was to dream of rose gardens, and fountains that filled the air with the gentle sound of water falling onto marble tile.

 

CHAPTER SIX

“Zephyr,” said Harry, entering my room early the next morning without so much as a knock, “I found something in your cellar.”

Right on his heels came Mrs. Brodsky. “Miss Zephyr!” she said, shrill as a shrieking cat. “This is the last straw! How many times have I said, no males allowed? First those police, and now this! This is a clean establishment—”

I fumbled for a robe. “Mrs. Brodsky, I assure you—”

“No, Zeph, you should come look,” Harry said. He grabbed my elbow and Mrs. Brodsky actually smacked him.

“Off, off!”

Aileen groaned and put the pillow over her head. “Zephyr, if your life must be insane, does it
always
have to wake me up?”

I grimaced. “Harry, you couldn't have waited downstairs?”

“The cellar, Zeph,” he said, tugging again. “You've got to look.”

“This man … your
beau
cannot just waltz—”

“He's my brother,” I said, at the same time Harry rolled his eyes, turned around and said, “She's my
sister,
you old prude.”

“You have a brother?” she said.

Harry took off his cap and bowed far too extravagantly. “Harold Hollis at your service, ma'am.”

Mrs. Brodsky looked between us, her expression a hilarious mixture of relief and annoyance. She pursed her lips. “This is very improper, Zephyr,” she said at a thankfully more tolerable pitch.

“Well
I
didn't invite him. Harry, what is this?”

“Will you come downstairs already? The cellar—”

“What on earth is in the cellar!”

Mrs. Brodsky frowned. “Yes, what do you mean? I went to the cellar last night, there was nothing improper in it.”

“Maybe it's rats, Mrs. Brodsky,” said Aileen, sepulchral tones muffled through her pillow.

“Rats!”

I put my hands over my ears. Harry, at least a head taller than Mrs.Brodsky, put a solicitous hand on her shoulder and stared directly at me.
Sucker,
he mouthed.

“Oh,” I said. “Let me get my slippers.”

“Rats!” Mrs. Brodsky said, shaking her head in something like despair. “How could this be? I keep everything so
clean
…”

I choked on a laugh. “I'm sure you do, ma'am,” Harry said soothingly. “It's probably a stray one that got stuck down there. Zeph and I will have it out in a jiffy.”

“Zephyr knows how to kill rats?” Mrs. Brodsky asked, some suspicion returning.

I had found one slipper, but the other had lodged itself among the dust bunnies far under the bed. I sighed and knelt on the floor.

“Oh, she's a natural, ma'am,” Harry said. “One of the best I've ever seen.”

“Are you an exterminator?”

I sneezed.

“Something like that,” Harry said.

“Got it!” I said, emerging from beneath my bed with the slipper triumphantly aloft. Aileen, having given up even the pretense of sleep, raised her eyebrows at me.

“You have dust in your hair,” she said.

I shrugged and shook out the slipper. “The better to hunt … ah, rats with,” I said. “Lead on, Harry.”

“You will tell me when you catch it?” Mrs. Brodsky was asking as we went back down the stairs. “If there are many of them…”

She shuddered and for a moment I thought she might cry. Harry was very adult and reassuring, which spared me the task of being sympathetic.

We left her in the parlor without much of an argument while Harry and I went out the back door to the small alleyway. Harry had secured the metal doors of the cellar with a blessed blade and a chain.

“The sucker's still alive?” I whispered.

Harry pulled out the sword, handed it to me and tossed open the doors. “When I left him,” he said. “He swore he knew you, so I thought I'd check.”

“Please tell me that you did not just threaten to kill a law-abiding vampire who happened to be coming by to pay me a visit? And that you definitely did not lock him in my
landlady's cellar
!”

He led the way down the steep stairs. “Well, I don't know, Zeph,” he said, looking over his shoulder with a disconcertingly appraising look. “I'm the last one to tell you not to do whatever you like with yourself, but I thought it was possible you didn't want a sucker with a gun in his pocket climbing up your fire escape to crawl through your window.”

Nicholas, again?
“That's … ah…” I smiled awkwardly at my suddenly all grown up younger brother. “Thanks, Harry.”

The cellar was crowded and dark, filled with enough canned food to last us a winter and piles of bric-a-brac it would take a miner to uncover. Harry had tied the sucker quite neatly in a far corner. He was gagged, which explained the eerie silence. I so expected to see Nicholas once again that I nearly yelped when Harry lit the oil lamp Mrs. Brodsky had given us.

“Charlie!”

Charlie met my eyes and then looked at the floor, so embarrassed even his muffled greeting sounded like a bleat.

“It's okay, Harry,” I said. I put down the sword and set about prying open Harry's thorough knots.

“Zephyr, I'm sorry, Nick said I could go through the window, I didn't mean nothing by it!” I could have sworn he was blushing, except vampires didn't really blush. Blood near the skin indicated a recent feeding.

I knelt and untied his feet. “Nicholas shouldn't have gone through the window, either,” I said. “You're lucky that my brother has such forbearance.”

Harry grinned and ruffled my dust-filled hair. “I'm my daddy's son, but my sister's brother.”

I stood up. “You mean you didn't buy all of Daddy's tripe about me ruining the family name?”

“Of course not, Zeph. Look at you! You're living like a pauper just so you can do what you believe in. That's really something. And I think you're right, to a point. When they're not evil, suckers can be all right.”

Charlie sat up a little straighter. “Course we can,” he said.

“Just like humans,” I said carefully.

Harry shrugged. “A sucker's a little more dangerous than your average person.”

I thought about Archibald Warren and whoever had decided to start poisoning vampires. “Maybe,” I said. I stood up. “So, Charlie, what's so important that you had to come crawling up my fire escape to tell me?”

“Nick said you needed the bottle. I got it in my bag, but your … friend here took it.”

Charlie looked at me hopefully. “Harry,” I said, “give him his stuff back. Charlie, Harry's my brother.”

“Glad to meet you, Harry.” He held out his hand and after a moment Harry shook it.

“So what's this bottle?” Harry asked, taking the dark glass from Charlie's bag. Harry handed it to me, and even though the cork had been firmly replaced, Faust's unmistakable stench leeched through.

“You don't recognize it?” I asked. “The scourge of New York's undead?”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Don't know how they can drink that stuff. Smells foul.”

“S'not so bad,” Charlie said defensively. “But don't let anyone drink that one. It's got the poison, whatever it is.”

I nodded. “Listen, I need you to deliver this for me. Take it to Lily Harding, at the
New-Star Ledger
offices in the Flatiron Building. In person, okay?”

Charlie nodded. “They're not always so friendly to suckers round there, Zephyr, but I'll figure it out.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” I scribbled a note telling Lily what was in the bottle and suggesting she find someone who could analyze it. Money and contacts could work miracles my goodwill couldn't. I folded it in half and handed it to him. “Tell Nicholas I'll see what I can do.”

Charlie beamed. “Okay, Zeph. I'll … be seeing you around, then. Nick says you're going to get us into the morgue? I want to see if Kevin really got turned back before he died. That's what they're saying, you know. Some of us are even trying to
find
the poison. You know, like it might not be so bad being dead, if you got to be human one last time.”

He looked almost wistful, which scared me in a strange way. “Charlie, you're not—”

“Oh! No! Not me, Zephyr, no way. Nick needs me and besides, this isn't so bad. But maybe I can just see the logic, that's all.”

He shrugged and pulled a heavy cloak from his bag. “Bye, Zephyr,” he said. I waved as he put the hood over his head and climbed carefully back into the sunlight.

“That's one way to start a morning,” I said, after he had left. “Want to share breakfast with me? Mrs. Brodsky probably won't mind, given that you've saved her from uncleanliness. I must warn you, however, that the porridge is always lumpy.”