“Fun, though,” Hyde said, sort of wistfully.
“So,” Doug said, getting off that subject, “can you tell me anything about what your, er … what Mr. Kell wants? He hasn’t been all that clear—”
“That asshole just wants to crawl under a rock and read books,” Hyde said. “Look at this—” He pointed to the particleboard bookshelves, sagging with hardbacks. “All this IKEA crap everywhere—Jesus. And this is a dream compared to what he had in here before those. Purple fucking built-ins! I had to take a sledgehammer to the whole pile of shit.”
He glared at the bookshelves and then abruptly heaved himself up off the whimpering couch and headed for them with his fists clenching and unclenching, like he couldn’t handle looking at them a second longer.
“So, you know,” Doug said hastily, “I do have a place I’d like you to take a look at…”
Hyde paused before reaching the bookcases, distracted. “Yeah? What the hell, let’s go now.”
“I don’t know if I can reach the broker—” Doug started.
“We can look at the outside,” Hyde said.
The vampire called her up less than a minute after Jennifer forwarded on the e-mail. “What the hell was that!” he yelled. “I almost dropped my iPhone in the gutter!”
“Really?” Jennifer said. “So—that actually hurt?”
“It was a picture of five million crosses!”
“Fantastic,” Jennifer said. “Can you meet me at Seventy-fifth and Third in half an hour?”
Getting Hyde into a taxi involved waiting fifteen minutes for one of the minivan ones to come by empty, but Doug was just fine with that: He spent the time frantically texting back and forth with Tom to get the selling broker down to the apartment in time to meet them. He didn’t completely trust Hyde not to just knock down the front door and go inside, otherwise.
He got a call back from the broker while they were heading downtown. “I just want to make sure you realize—” the guy said.
“Yes, I know,” Doug said. “It’s completely mint inside, though, right?”
“Oh, absolutely,” the broker said. “Architect-designed gut renovation.”
They got out in front of Marble Cemetery. One of the wispy, sad-eyed apparitions paused by the iron railing to watch as Hyde climbed out of the cab, which almost bounced as he finally stepped out. It looked up at him. Hyde glared down at it. “You want something, Casper?” he said. The apparition prudently whisked away.
“So Bowery is two blocks that way, and the Hells Angels club is on the next street over,” Doug said, leading the way to the townhouse next door.
“Looks small,” Hyde said, and he did have to duck his head to get through the front door, but inside the ceilings were ten feet. He stamped his foot experimentally. “What is this stuff?”
“Brazilian hardwood,” the selling broker said faintly, staring up at Hyde with rabbit-wide eyes.
“Maybe let’s take a look at the kitchen,” Doug said encouragingly. “Do you have an offering sheet?”
“Uh, yeah,” the broker said, still staring as he backed up slowly. “Right … this way…”
“All right, now this is fucking something,” Hyde said approvingly, coming into the kitchen. There was a long magnetic strip mounted on the wall with five or so chef’s knives stuck onto it. He picked off a cleaver and tossed it casually in his hand as the broker edged around him, pointing out the Miele appliances.
“And granite countertops, as requested,” Doug added.
“Let’s see the bathroom,” Hyde said. He didn’t leave the cleaver behind.
The master bath on the second floor had a big soaking tub and another small apparition hanging around outside the window, staring in with miserable empty eyes that spoke of endless despair and horrors beyond the grave. “Get lost,” Hyde told it, and it disappeared.
“So, the uh, the third-floor ceilings,” the broker said, stumbling over his words as they came out back to the staircase, “—a little lower, I’m not sure—”
“Maybe we could have Mr. Kell take a look?” Doug suggested to Hyde. “Assuming that you like the place so far.”
Hyde looked around and said, “Yeah, this is decent. But make sure that asshole doesn’t try to negotiate.” He gave his toothy grin to the selling broker, who shrank away. “I’ll handle that part.”
“Sure,” Doug said, and Hyde’s smile and shoulders curled in on themselves, and Kell was there, wobbling a little in his suddenly too-large clothing.
He looked around uncertainly and said, “I … I’m not sure. The front windows, on the street—anyone could see inside—”
“Why don’t we go upstairs?” Doug said, shepherding him onto the third floor.
Kell paused about halfway up, as the built-in bookcases came into view, before continuing up. “Well, those are nice,” he said.
“And the windows look on the cemetery back here,” Doug said. “Of course, I realize it’s a little inconvenient,” he added, and Kell looked at him. “Since Mr. Hyde won’t be able to get up to this floor.”
“Oh,” Kell said. “Oh.”
Doug shook the selling broker’s hand as they left the house. “Will you be around later?” he said.
“Um,” the broker said, “could you … maybe not give my number to…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Doug said. “I’ll handle going between.”
The other broker looked relieved. “The seller is totally negotiable,” he added, throwing a look at the cemetery. A gardener was busy nearby, spraying a thin, clutching, revenant hand that was struggling out of an old grave.
“Who is the seller?” Doug asked, watching.
“Investment banker,” the broker said.
Doug dropped Kell off and took the cab the rest of the way back to the office. Tom had just gotten back, beaming, with celebratory lattes. “What’s this for?” Doug said.
“We need to order new photos for Tudor City,” Tom said, and showed them the little video clip off his camera phone. Doug squinted at it. The wall was still moving, but—
“Are those butterflies?” Jennifer said.
“Twenty-three varieties, some of them endangered,” Tom said. “I used the catalog from the exhibit at the Museum of Natural History.”
“Wow,” Doug said. “Tom, this doesn’t call for new photos; this calls for a relisting.”
They clinked latte cups, then Jennifer shrugged into her coat. “I have to get to Hunter College. Community Board Eight is having a review meeting for a proposed new building next to the Oryx.”
“Is Angela still yelling at you about that?” Doug said. “You want me to talk to her? We told her before she bought, there’s pretty much no such thing as a protected view.”
“No worries,” Jennifer said. “We’re getting a Fair Housing protest in. There’s a sponsor apartment on the thirteenth floor that would be facing the new development; they’re selling it to the vampire. They’ll have to keep the new building below that height.”
She stopped short with her hand on the door, though, as a thundering knock hit, and then another. She glanced back at Doug and Tom, then shrugged and pulled it open.
A giant horse was standing outside in the hall gazing down at them, nostrils flaring, a thin trail of smoke rising from them. Glowing red flames shone in its eyes. There was a dent in the office door where it had knocked with a front hoof. People were sticking their heads out of other offices down the hall to watch.
“Hi,” the pooka said. “Marvin said you could help me.”
“Marvin?” Tom said, under his breath.
“The vampire,” Jennifer said.
The pooka nodded, mane flopping. “I’m looking for an apartment.”