“Well, that’s that,” Hexe sighed. “What’s next?”
We didn’t have long to wait, as there came a familiar tapping on the parlor window frame, signaling the return of Esau’s familiar, Edgar. This time the raven flew in and perched on the mantelpiece. Beanie charged forward, stiff-legged, barking furiously at the feathered intruder, until Edgar cawed loudly and flapped his soot-black wings in consternation, sending Beanie scampering behind Scratch, who spread his own, leathery wings in challenge.
Edgar clattered his beak in what passed for laughter, and then turned his beady, ruby-red eyes to Hexe. The voice that issued from the familiar was that of Madam Erys, but the intonation and inflection were unmistakably Esau’s: “Midnight at The Lucky Fool. Come alone. No PTU. No familiars.”
“Understood,” Hexe said with a solemn nod of his head.
“We will be there,” Lady Syra promised.
Having delivered his master’s message, the familiar cawed a final time and flew back out the open window, but not before soiling the hearth on the way out.
“You know it’s a trap,” Horn said flatly. “He plans to kill you both—possibly even the baby—and paint the portal’s lintel with your blood.”
“Of course, but Esau isn’t aware that we know about his plan,” Hexe replied.
Horn glanced at me. “And you’re good with letting them do this?”
“It’s not just them. I’m going, too.”
“But you’ve just had a baby!” Hexe protested in alarm.
“Yes, one that is being held for ransom by a murderer!” I reminded him. “And if you think I’m going to stay behind while you try to rescue him, you really haven’t been paying attention over the last year. And for your information, Mr. ‘You Just Had A Baby,’ you’ve just had your hand cut off! So just try to keep me from being in on this!”
“She’s got you there, son.” His father chuckled.
“But—it’s going to be dangerous!”
“If I have learned one thing about dealing with strong-willed women,” Horn said as he slipped a paternal arm about Hexe’s shoulders, “there’s no point in arguing with them once their minds are made up.”
“Your father’s right, Hexe,” Lady Syra nodded. “Believe me; he’s learned the hard way.”
“So what’s this Lucky Fool?” I asked.
“It’s a gambling house operated by the Maladanti—cards, Russian roulette, dice, that kind of thing,” Captain Horn explained. “It’s located down on the river. I’m not surprised Boss Marz is involved in this business.”
“He’s more a part of it than you realize,” Hexe said dourly. “The reason I was wearing the Gauntlet of Nydd in the first place is because Marz kidnapped me the night of the Jubilee and smashed my right hand with one of the Witchfinder instruments stolen from the museum.”
Lady Syra gasped so loudly I thought she was about to scream, while all the color drained from Captain Horn’s face and his eyes narrowed into slits. When the PTU chief finally spoke, his words were as cold and hard as a lead pipe. “I’ll kill him.”
“Not if I get to him first,” Lady Syra said, the deadly calm of her voice belaying the fury in her golden eyes.
“The time has finally come to bring down the Maladanti, once and for all,” Horn said. “But it’s going to take more than the PTU to take them out. We’re going to need a small army.”
“We already have one combing the streets,” Hexe said, holding up his cell. “All you have to do is say the word. They’ve been waiting for an opportunity to strike back at Boss Marz and his croggies.”
“In that case,” I said, “we need to stop by the museum. There’s something there that should come in handy.”
The Lucky Fool was within smelling distance of the East River and looked like a run-of-the-mill gin joint. The only evidence of it being a casino was the neon sign above the door, which depicted the familiar image from the Tarot deck, bindle on his shoulder, blithely strolling off the edge of a cliff, eyes forever skyward.
A Maladanti croggy with magenta hair and a badly fitting tuxedo standing at the door stepped forward to greet Hexe, Lady Syra, and me as we approached. “We’ve been expecting you. Follow me, Your Majesty.”
The interior of The Lucky Fool proved a little more upscale than its exterior, but not by much. A pall of cigarette smoke thick enough to part like a curtain covered the central room, which had the ugliest wall-to-wall carpeting I’d ever seen. The front of the house was full of loud slot machines and video poker, with craps, blackjack, and Pai Gow toward the back. There were plenty of gamblers, most of them human, wagering at the tables. None of them looked up from their bets as we were escorted to the back of the house.
“That’s funny—I don’t see a roulette wheel,” I commented as I glanced at the games on display.
“Oh, we have roulette,” the pit boss said with an unpleasant smile as he opened a door that said LUCKIEST FOOLS ONLY.
As loud and crowded as the gaming floor of the casino was, it was nothing compared to the back room. At each of the numerous tables were seated between two to six players, each and every one of them sweating through their clothes. It wasn’t until I noticed the snub-nosed revolvers sitting on lazy Susans set into the middle of the felt that I realized what the plastic sheeting draped over the chairs and covering the floors was for. Each table was crowded by throngs of men, and some women, shouting and waving fistfuls of money like stock traders trying to corner the market on hog bellies. My stomach tightened as I remembered the crowds screaming for blood at the pit fights, and wondered how many of those same people were now wagering to see who would be the last to blow their brains out. As the pit boss opened yet another door, there came the sound of a single, muffled gunshot from somewhere behind me, immediately followed by a roar of excited voices. I did not turn around to look.
The second door opened onto the stairs that led down to the boiler room. Standing in front of yet another door was Marz’s lieutenant, Gaza, and some nameless croggy.
“I’ll take ’em from here,” Gaza said with a smirk, eyeing where Hexe’s right hand should have been. “Follow me, Your Highnesses.”
The Maladanti opened the door behind him, revealing a low, brick-lined tunnel lit by a chain of witchfire, which cast an eerie blue glow. We walked single file for what seemed like at least two city blocks before reaching the end of the passageway, which led to a wooden stairwell. As we came to the top of the stairs, I recognized our surroundings as the same warehouselike building Hexe and I had been shanghaied to months ago.
“Welcome to the Stronghold, Your Majesties,” Boss Marz’s deep voice boomed out. The crime lord was standing in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by several dozen of his minions. Next to Marz was an old-fashioned hanging cradle, and perched atop its peaked hood was the familiar, Bonzo, clutching a baby bottle. The sight of the hell-ape so close to my child filled me with a terror that made an attack by a demon seem like a ride on a roller coaster. “You do me great honor,” the crime lord said.
“There is no honor in this place,” Lady Syra retorted. “And I thought you said no familiars.”
“The instructions were that you not bring familiars,” Erys replied, stepping out from behind one of the pillars that supported the warehouse roof. “I said nothing about myself and my confederates.”
“You are much changed since last I saw you, Esau.”