“Valkyrie Collections, this is Nadine. How may I help you?”
“Nadine, it’s Alek.”
“Oh, hey, hun! I saw you were here already this morning. I tell you, Alek, you don’t have to make that shitty coffee. I’ll bring you something good when I come in.”
“I needed an early pick-me-up,” I told her. Nadine is the reaper secretary. She’s a heavyset black woman in her early fifties who hasn’t missed a day of work for thirty years – other than the two weeks she takes off every December to go to the Caribbean. She prefers her nails long, her hair dyed, her designer clothes discounted, her shoes expensive, and her men confident. She’s also the only person at Valkyrie who knows my true relationship with Ada, so she goes out of her way to make my life a little less miserable. She is, needless to say, one of my favorite people in the world.
“Well, you’ve got a chai latte sitting in the fridge with your name on it when you get back to the office, and I swear, if Karen tries to drink it, I will cut her.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Did Ada tell you about the meeting with Ferryman this morning?”
Nadine snorted. “Yes, she did. That greasy old asshole left the whole office reeking of cigarettes. I’ve got a cleaning crew coming tomorrow to get the smell out before Ada gets back from Paris.”
“Thanks for taking care of that. Ada has me working on Ferryman’s job solo until it’s finished, but I could use a little support help.” Ferryman’s request for discretion meant I couldn’t depend on any of our normal skip tracers, but Nadine knew where all the bodies were buried in the company. I could trust her implicitly.
“Say the word.”
“I need you to start calling all the minor soul collecting companies – our clients and anyone else you can think of – and tell them we’re looking for a woman working out of downtown Cleveland who purchased wealth and power. The transaction was probably in the 2000s, but they should widen their search by a decade in each direction just in case.”
“Mmmhmm. You do know the Lords of Hell don’t like being asked questions about their clients, right?”
“Tell them the request comes straight from Ferryman and they can follow up with him if they aren’t happy. We need the name of this woman.”
“I’ll give it a go,” she promised. “This might take a couple of days. Half those pricks don’t answer their phones.”
“Whatever it takes. I’ll start with our big seven right now, so don’t worry about them.”
“Understood. Good luck.”
I stopped at the next Starbucks and charged a cappuccino to the company credit card before claiming a corner table and setting my phone on the table in front of me.
You think they’ll actually answer your questions? Maggie asked. Nadine was right – they hate talking about their clients.
They will if they want to find their missing souls, I told her, and started my first call.
I spent the next several hours talking to what felt like every secretary in Hell. Lucy was in meetings all day. Satan’s people told me they didn’t have any Cleveland execs in their records. Modius claimed they didn’t do business in Midwest, though I knew for a fact that they did. ViaTech, Leviathan Industries, and BeelzMart all came up with nothing. Mammon hadn’t been in the soul business for centuries, so I didn’t bother calling him. And – no surprise – Belphagor wouldn’t answer his goddamn phone.
I finally hung up after trying to get through to somebody at LuciCorp who could give me a straight answer and rubbed the gums below my bottom canines. I had no word from Nadine, which meant she hadn’t gotten any further than I had.
Any idea what you’ll do if this is a dud? Maggie asked. She’d been quiet since I’d started my calls – probably reading a book or something.
I shook my head. It was something I hadn’t had time to consider. I’ll start hitting the rest of my contacts and see what I can drum up. I’d begun with Zeke because he came through the most often with me, and despite his mercenary behavior, he wouldn’t say a word about my investigation to anyone once he’d been paid. I couldn’t say the same thing about most of the other snitches in town. If we can’t come up with a solid lead, I’ll go back to Ferryman and press him for more information. He held back something. If I need to, I’ll make sure he tells me what.
Maggie laughed. You’ve got balls; I’ll give you that. If I ever meet Death, it’s gonna be all, “yes, sir,” and “no, sir,” for me.
You did meet him, I pointed out. He just didn’t know you were there.
I got up and ordered another cappuccino, then returned to my seat and watched as the last of the lunchtime stragglers finished their coffees and headed back to their offices or gyms or homes or wherever people go during the middle of the day. I spun my phone on the table with one finger and tried not to think about how long this week would be if I couldn’t track down Ferryman’s thieves quickly. It wasn’t just that I wanted to finish the job – I wanted to get free of Ada for a few days so that Maggie could enjoy her anniversary. And I damn well needed a break too.
Heads up, came a whisper from Maggie.
Huh?
Something’s not right.
I raised my head and looked around the Starbucks. Other than me and one lady in the opposite corner, the place was empty. Two workers cleaned equipment behind the glass case of snacks.
The black Caddie that just pulled in to the parking lot, Maggie said.
I leaned back to get a good look out the window. A black Cadillac had, indeed, just pulled into the parking lot. Three people got out. One of them did a circuit around my truck, then all three headed toward the front door of the Starbucks.
Two of them looked like identical twins. They were tall – easily six foot six – and gaunt, wearing sunglasses, baseball caps, hoodies, and jeans. The third was maybe five foot eight, wearing a black sports jacket over a black T-shirt with black slacks and slicked-back black hair. He was clean-shaven and baby faced, and he wore a scowl that gave me the impression that he wanted to look tough.
I think that Zeke’s amateur necromancer just found us, I told Maggie. How the hell did he figure out where I was?
Beats me. Keep your guard up. That kid looks like a piece of shit, but he’s got some serious raw power. And I can’t read his two spooks at all.
I pushed my chair back from the table and slid my notes into the bag beneath my seat, adopting a casual pose as I sipped my drink. The trio entered, looked around once, and headed straight for me. The amateur necromancer slid into the chair across the table from me, while his companions took up positions to block my escape route to the door.
I ignored the kid for a moment and gave the big guys a quick up and down. This close, I could see cracked, sallow skin and fingernails blackened with age. They stood unnaturally, stiff and unresponsive like the model of a skeleton in the corner of a doctor’s office. No wonder you can’t get a read on them, I told Maggie. They’re fucking draugr. Undead are always a little tricky to detect with sorcery. They occupy a place between our world and the next in a way that gives them a sort of false sorcerous aura.
What kind of prick brings draugr out in broad daylight? Maggie demanded.
Hold on; I’ll ask.
I turned my attention to kid sitting across from me and fixed him with my best annoyed stare. “What kind of a prick brings two draugr out in broad daylight?” I asked.