“This is corporate protectionism?”
Ferryman stared at his newly laid out game. “I suppose it is.”
“You’re a prick.” For once, Maggie didn’t scold me. She floated on the edge of my awareness, still quiet, still listening.
“I’ve been called worse,” Ferryman said as he leaned over his game and began to move cards. “I do think I have time, though I’m not sure how much. A couple of weeks? A month? I’m giving you ten more days before I pull the contract and alert OtherOps.” He looked up, fixing me with those black, galaxy-speckled eyes. “I do have faith in you, Alek. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered. OtherOps may have resources, but you know this world. You know the clients and their customers and the equipment being used. A reaper is a far better agent to deal with this than an entire OtherOps office.”
“Kind of you to say,” I responded wryly. If Ferryman pulled the contract, I would have failed to stop a disaster, and Ada would be pissed as hell over losing out on however much Ferryman had offered her. Millions, no doubt. The two different sets of stakes seemed immeasurably imbalanced. But one would happen to the other people. The other would happen to me.
I took a few calming breaths and tried to pull myself together. Nothing to do now but go through with my investigation. I pointed at the mirrors on Ferryman’s table. “I’m on the right track.”
“It seems you are. As I said before, I am very pleased. You mentioned imps. Do you think they’re behind this secondhand soul business?”
“I know they’re involved. I doubt they’re behind it. Imps are rarely behind anything but petty theft and drug dealing. I think they’re working for someone both bolder and stupider.” I paused, massaging the gums of my lower canines. “The truth is, I need the resources of someone like OtherOps. I haven’t even explored where they’re getting all these souls – how they’re stealing from reaper agencies or the Lords of Hell. Unfortunately, I have a thousand different angles to work, and it’s just me.”
“Keep on this trail of dead imps,” Ferryman advised. “As I told you before, the Lords of Hell have conducted their own investigations and come up with nothing. Searching around in their trash cans isn’t going to help.”
That reminder tickled something in the back of my head. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. “That’s… discouraging,” I said. “It’s possible that whoever is running this business has already figured out that we’re on to them. He killed a whole bunch of his imps and tried to destroy some soul mirrors. If I had to guess, I’d say we have a few days at best before he finishes liquidizing his business and skips town.”
“You’d better hurry, then.”
“Thanks for the advice.” I turned around, searching the darkness for the other side of the stepping mirror I’d come through, expecting a glint in the darkness. Nothing stood out. “I’ll try to pick up the pace. In the meantime, make sure that Lucy and her friends answer their damn phones the moment I call.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Ferryman promised.
“Good. Now, how the hell do I get back to my–” I hadn’t finished my sentence when I found myself sitting back at my desk, my fingers still pressed to the stepping mirror. “Office.” I blinked at the bright lighting and sighed, wishing I could go back and undo that whole conversation. My stomach was a knot now, a ball of stress that might just kill me before Death’s realm could lash out at humanity like an angry child.
Answers aren’t always fun, are they? Maggie asked.
No. Definitely not. The thought tickled the back of my brain again. There was something there, just outside of reach.
I do have some good news, Maggie told me. I managed to find out how to put draugr to rest.
At least that’s something. How long until they show up and try to kill me again?
Based on the last time, you’ve got two more days. Maybe less. If we catch them while they regenerate, we might be able to get some information out of them.
I like the sound of that. Okay, tell me what we need, and we’ll go have a talk with our undead friends.
Maggie hesitated. My anniversary starts Friday afternoon.
I know, I told her, feeling a flash of guilt. That’s why I want to get info out of them. If I can’t spend your anniversary with you, at the very least I can give you a lead on who it is that knows you’re still alive.
Chapter 10
It was almost three in the morning when I pulled onto a quiet street just south of Mayfield Road on the eastern border of the Cleveland city limits. I sang along with Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” on the radio, squinting at signs until I found one advertising all-night parking. I got out, shrugging on an unlabeled hoodie and getting a Maglite from the passenger seat of my rental. I looked up and down the street, eyeballing the darkness for cops. The only sign of life I saw was a couple making out beneath a stop sign a block away.
The sight of them caused a stab of melancholy. It happened from time to time, especially when I was working late at night. I leaned on the car door, willing it away, trying not to think about the fact that my last girlfriend had dumped me after three weeks because I worked too much. That had been a couple years ago, and I’d had nothing but the occasional bar hookup since. As much as I liked Maggie, the fact that my only constant companion was a seven-century-old jinn was a tad dehumanizing.
The melancholy finally passed, and Maggie didn’t seem to have noticed. Hey, Mags, are we clear? I could see my breath as a white fog beneath the flickering of the street light.
We’re good, Maggie told me.
You’re sure about that?
Yeah. Closest cop is half asleep, eating a donut three streets over from here.
Oh, come on, I told her. That’s racist.
Cops aren’t a race.
Coppist?
Is it coppist if he really is eating a donut? she asked.
I should ask Justin.
I checked my pocket for a pair of plastic baggies filled with some draugr dust I’d scraped up after our fight the other day. There was more dirt, gravel, and glass from my pickup windshield than there was actual draugr dust in either bag, but Maggie claimed it was enough. I flipped up my hood and walked quickly down the sidewalk, keeping an eye out for passing cars.
I crossed Mayfield Road and pulled myself over a seven-foot concrete wall, dropping on the other side to land in an overgrown tangle of vines, discarded stones, and the trees that formed a screen between the road and Lake View Cemetery. I knelt among the vines, squinting through the trees to the open grass and winding concrete paths that made up the cemetery beyond.
I spotted a flashlight bobbing in the darkness off to my left just as Maggie said, Security, and I moved behind a tree until he passed.
Rub a little more of that draugr dust on my ring, Maggie told me.
Kinky, I replied, following her instructions. I could practically feel her rolling her eyes.
Okay, I got it, she told me. They’re both in the same tomb. Head north until I say so.
With Maggie guiding the way, I was able to navigate to the nearest path and follow in the security guard’s footsteps. There was just enough moonlight that I could manage without my Maglite, but I kept it in hand regardless. We passed hundreds of graves varying as much in shape and size as the people within them. Black obelisks towered high above, and shadowy mausoleums seemed to menace me from the darkness. Despite working with loa, vampires, and even Death, cemeteries still gave me the willies.