Once we were alone, Jacinto said, “There is an element of altruism in this. You can believe that or not, but it’s true. I meant what I said to you the first night you came here. Blood magic is an abomination. Even on those rare occasions when the ‘donors’ are volunteers, they rarely have a full understanding of what it is they’re about to do. And most of them are conscripts.”
I thought of Heather, and of Jeff, the man in Sweetwater Park, and I couldn’t quite suppress a shudder.
Amaya took a breath. “And as it happens, in this case my altruism dovetails nicely with my business interests.”
“How so?”
“Dark sorcerers are relatively new to the Phoenix area. They haven’t yet established themselves here to the extent they have in, say, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, New York, even Chicago. But in those other places, they have insinuated themselves into the street culture. They deal drugs, run prostitution rings, sell weapons to gangs.”
“Forgive me for saying so, Mister Amaya, but they sound a bit like you.”
I thought he might take offense, but he merely raised an eyebrow, a faint grin curving his lips.
“I told you, I have a business stake in this. The last thing I want is to have my . . . enterprises competing with those of dark sorcerers.” He sobered. “But it’s more than that. Yes, some of the drugs I bring into the city find their way to people you and I would call kids, even if they don’t see themselves that way. And some of the prostitution money that comes my way is sourced in the same age group. But when these dark crafters are hunting for blood for their spells, they almost always prey on the young, the kids living out in the streets. That might not be the pattern here yet, but it will be soon enough. It’s what they do in those other cities I mentioned. They kill kids for spells. That’s how dark magic works. And you in particular know this as well as I do, because it’s what Etienne de Cahors did with the Blind Angel killings.”
He was right. Almost every one of the Blind Angel victims, more than thirty all told, were street kids, many of them Latino or African American.
“I don’t want the competition,” he said, without any apparent shame. “And I don’t want them killing off my clientele.”
“That’s hardly admirable,” I said.
“I never claimed otherwise. You asked about my interest in all of this. I’m being honest.”
“But not entirely.”
Amaya’s expression calcified. “Meaning what?”
“I think there was another reason you had me brought here that first night. For some reason you thought that Witcombe and the others might come after you. You wanted them worrying about me instead.”
His mouth twitched to the side. “They were already worried about you,” he said. An admission. “I think you know they were. After Cahors you were more important to them, more of a threat. I gave them one more reason to focus their energy on you.”
“And in the process you took some of the heat off yourself.”
“Yes,” he said. “But the rest of what I told you is true. They’re a danger to my livelihood, and I don’t take that lightly.”
“So you think that Regina Witcombe is prepared to bankroll a criminal empire to match yours?”
“No. Missus Witcombe is providing money now, to get them started. But I’m sure she’ll steer well clear of the drugs and prostitution.”
That made sense, too. Something Patty had said to me about Witcombe when I was under her control came back to me now. Before long, I’ll have access to enough income that we won’t need her . . . Did Patty Hesslan-Fine envision herself as a potential rival to Jacinto Amaya? Was that what Saorla had promised her, a criminal empire run from behind the unimpeachable façade of Sonoran Winds Realty? And in return, Saorla would have a veritable blood factory: thousands of kids trapped by drugs and prostitution, easy pickings for her and her weremancers. It made sense, in a twisted, terrifying way.
For now I kept this thought to myself, saying instead, “I figured out why they went to Washington, by the way, and why it is that Saorla would have been willing to kill Jimmy Howell and ground the plane to keep Witcombe and her companion safe.”
“Tell me.”
“They’ve figured out how to kill the Runeclave’s runemystes.”
For the first time since I’d met Amaya, I had the feeling that he had no earthly idea what to say. He stared at me, appearing stunned and more than a little frightened.
“They murdered one near Washington,” I said. “That’s also why they wanted me. They tried to use me to kill a runemyste I know. I was reluctant to tell you because generally speaking I don’t like to announce to the world that a runemyste has taken an interest in me. But I figure that if Saorla manages to kill me in the next day or two, someone else should know.”
“Does that mean you’ve come to trust me?”
I checked my watch again-another fifteen minutes gone. “I suppose so. Don’t tell anyone, all right?”
We both grinned.
“You have a reputation to uphold.”
“Exactly. Listen, I have to leave. I’m guessing that Saorla wants to find me again before the phasing begins and her weremyste friends are no longer any use to her. And that’s fine with me, but I need to be prepared.”
“As I’ve told you before, I can help you with this. I’ll fight.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m still wanted by the police, and I’m not sure it would be helpful to either of us to be seen together.”
“You were planning to bring in the police for a fight against dark sorcerers?”
I started to shake my head, then stopped myself. And as I did an idea came to me, a crazy idea, but one that might allow me to solve all of my problems at once. Something else occurred to me as well, and before I knew it I had the bare outlines of a plan. “All right,” I said. “I’d be glad to have your help with this.” I pointed at the paper on which I’d written the coordinates of my dad’s trailer. “Meet me there an hour before the moonrise. And bring Paco and Rolon-Luis, too, if you can get word to him.” I started toward his front door.
“Anything else?”
I heard the irony in his tone; he wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone. Fortunately, he seemed more amused than offended by my manner. “Yeah,” I said over my shoulder. “Make sure you ward yourselves.”
I climbed back into the Lexus and drove to one of the fancy malls in Scottsdale that had a covered parking complex. Once there, I sent Kona a text message telling her to meet me on level three of the parking garage.
I knew that it would take her some time to get there, and also that she wouldn’t know what car to watch for. I was fine with that. I didn’t think that Kona and Kevin intended to arrest me for Heather’s murder, but I preferred to go into this encounter with a few advantages, just in case. I sat in the car and waited, checking out each vehicle as it cruised onto the third level, making sure that none of the cars carried detectives.
I spotted Kona and Kevin about half an hour later, almost as soon as they drove into the lot. Still, I remained in the Lexus as they pulled into a space and turned off their car. They got out right away. I didn’t. I hunkered down a bit lower and watched them for a few minutes, waiting for any sign that they had backup with them. When I was convinced that they didn’t, I got out and walked toward them, my steps echoing off the low cement ceiling.
Kona spotted me right off, but she didn’t move and she didn’t seem to say anything to Kevin, at least not until I was close to them.
I halted about twenty feet short of where they stood, and glanced around. “Thanks for coming,” I said.
Kona buried her hands in her blazer pocket. “There a reason we’re here, and not in the open someplace?”
I shook my head. “Not a good one. I didn’t feel like waiting for you in the sun.”
She gazed past me, trying to get a glimpse of the car I’d been in. “What are you driving?”
“A loaner. Anytime the forensic guys are done with my 280Z, I’d be glad to have her back.”