City of Secrets (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 5) Read online

  “I suspected that.” Still no struggle. Agent Wurther seemed extraordinarily calm for a dead guy. “Are you the DeathSpeaker?”

  “In the flesh.” Whoops. That was probably a poor choice of words. “Any chance you know who killed you?” I said.

  The body bag shivered slightly. “No. It … wasn’t human.”

  “Was it some kind of big cat?”

  “No.” In-and-out. Like Wurther was still trying to breathe. “You’re making me answer you somehow.”

  “Yeah, I tend to do that. So what killed you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I sighed. I really hated it when they tried to stall me. “This would go faster if you’d elaborate,” I said, not really expecting him to.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  The body bag shifted slightly. “I was born in Des Moines, Iowa, on March second—”

  “Not that much.” I couldn’t figure out if he was being uncooperative, or trying to make a joke. He almost sounded amused. “What do you know about your killer?”

  Another shiver. “He was not a man. His eyes were wrong. Terrible. He’s powerful … and he’s insane. He drank my blood. His followers drank my blood.” He paused. “I was still alive.”

  I was well on the way to feeling sorry for this one. “And you’ve never seen him before?” I said.

  “No. I would’ve remembered.”

  “You are Milus Dei, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I was.” Again, I got a sense of dry humor from him. “My partner and I came here … for you. To capture you. I see that didn’t work out.”

  Okay, maybe I didn’t like him. “Not like you would’ve hoped,” I said. “Was Redfield your partner?”

  “Yes. I assume he didn’t make it.”

  “No, and neither did the Valentines.”

  “Thank God for that. At least there’s a bright side,” Wurther said. “I told him not to hire those lunatics.”

  Well, damn. Now I liked him again. “Thanks for that,” I said. “Anything else you can tell me that might help? We’re trying to find this killer.”

  “If that’s what you’re doing, I don’t think there’s any help for you.”

  A strong chill moved through me. Wurther’s tone had shifted with that statement, from calm and dry to aggressively dark. “Great,” I said. “Thanks anyway, I guess.” Time to move on and let this one go.

  “I would like to ask you for something, DeathSpeaker.”

  I was mildly intrigued. He probably wanted me to avenge his death or something. “Okay, shoot,” I said.

  “Take care of Elijah.”

  It was all I could do not to gasp out loud. Eli-just. This guy knew Eli.

  The badmen were Milus Dei, after all.

  “What did you people do to him?” I said, angry all over again.

  “We made him. I cared for him. And Redfield used him.” The body bag took a breath. “He’d sent him ahead to find you and report your location, in case the Valentines failed. A secondary protocol. Now Elijah won’t know what to do. He’ll have no one left.”

  I could actually hear the concern in Wurther’s voice, and it calmed me down. At least someone had cared about Eli, at some point. I couldn’t help asking, “What is he?”

  “He used to be a very intelligent rat.”

  “So he’s not human, then.”

  “He does have some human DNA in him. Among … other types. But really, he’s no more than a child.” Wurther paused, and said, “His existence is not his fault. Please, don’t let him get hurt.”

  My eyes might’ve watered a little. “Don’t worry. He’s safe with us,” I said. “He’s been adopted by a werewolf.”

  “Interesting.” The dry humor was back. “Thank you, DeathSpeaker.”

  “Yeah. Uh … sorry you got killed.”

  “Honestly, I expected that to happen much sooner than it did,” he said. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t seek this killer out. I’ve seen a lot of powerful beings in my time …” The body bag actually flinched. “And nothing comes close to him.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said carefully, more unsettled than ever. “Thanks.”

  I had to let his soul go, before I ended up getting attached. I was starting to see Agent Gilmore’s point. Maybe not all Milus Dei members were bad guys.

  Frost for sure. But maybe not some of the rest.

  And now I had to decide which side I was going to fight for. My enemies, or the insanely powerful, vengeful djinn.

  CHAPTER 20

  They were waiting for me in the parking lot.

  I’d barely managed to get out of the van when Gilmore and Frost cornered me. One of them looked almost relieved to see me. It wasn’t Frost.

  At least I could take this opportunity to play the torture-and-mutilation card.

  “Interfering with a federal investigation,” Frost said. “You do know that’s illegal, don’t you?”

  Gilmore glanced sideways at her. “You really can’t do things like this, Mr. Black.”

  “You know, I’d care a lot more about not breaking the law if you guys were just Feds,” I said. “But I can’t quite let go of the idea that I shouldn’t trust the people who keep torturing and killing whoever they want to, and then wonder why anyone would possibly think they’re bad guys.”

  “Regardless of our connection to outside interests, we are still NSA agents,” Gilmore said, somewhat uncomfortably. “And we’re investigating a domestic terrorist who is targeting United States law enforcement personnel.”

  “Domestic terrorist. You’re kidding me.”

  Frost scowled. “I swear to God, Knox—”

  “All right.” He held a placating hand out. “Mr. Black, we have to take Agent Wurther in for processing. Are you going to obstruct this action?”

  I almost laughed. “Nope. He’s all yours.”

  “Then we’ll still consider this a cooperative investigation,” he said.

  Frost’s expression said she strongly disagreed with his assessment.

  Gilmore cleared his throat. “Special Agent Frost, would you please direct the transport team here?”

  “Fine.” Eyes flashing, she pivoted and walked away as she took her phone out.

  Agent Gilmore managed to look even more awkward. “Well,” he said. “Did you … interrogate the victim?”

  “You mean the dead one?” I let him think about how crazy that sounded for a minute, but then I relented. I’d give him a little something, at least. “Yeah, I did,” I said. “You know you’re dealing with a shifter, right?”

  “We suspected some form of werewolf.” He scuffed a foot and looked down. “We’re still going through the damaged records from the Hell’s Kitchen warehouse.”

  So that was where they got all the fire-damaged stuff. I didn’t feel too guilty about destroying their records, since they were the ones who set up the explosives — in an attempt to kill the Others who were too weak to move when they abandoned the building. “Well, I can tell you he’s definitely not a werewolf, or any other type of were,” I said. “Also, this time he killed the victim as a man. And drank his blood.”

  Gilmore’s eyes got really wide. “Do you think the killer is a vampire?” he whispered loudly.

  This time I laughed. “Um, no. Not a vampire either.” I glanced across the parking lot to see Frost headed back with three or four suited agents, dragging a stretcher. “Listen, I might be able to help you more, but—” Damn. I really didn’t want to say this out loud, because it was the last thing I wanted to do. Unfortunately, it was the last thing I could do, besides wait for another body to turn up. “I’d have to interrogate one of the other victims,” I said at last. “Orville Valentine. You have his body, right?”

  He frowned. “Yes, but—”

  “No.”

  I hadn’t even heard Frost circle the front of the van. The retrieval team was around the back, helping themselves to Wurther’s body. And Frost looked like she
wanted to lay me out and drop me in his place.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Gilmore hissed. But somehow, he was still polite about it. “We need him.”

  “No, we don’t. He doesn’t want to help. And I don’t want him anywhere near this investigation.” Frost stepped closer to me, her green-eyed death stare drilling hard. “No more access for you. We’ll handle this,” she said. “If you get in my way again, I will arrest you. And this time you won’t walk.”

  “Agent Frost,” Gilmore said stiffly. “I really think we should—”

  “I am in charge of this investigation, Agent Gilmore,” she snapped. “We tried it your way. It’s time for my way now.”

  I’d had just about enough of this outraged act from her. “Your way,” I said. “That’d be cutting people open and bleeding them out, right?”

  Her gaze narrowed sharply. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Oh, come on. You’re going to deny it?” I said. “You already said didn’t have any problems with what your people did to my father, my brother, my friends, or me. What’s one more freak you tortured and took apart?”

  “Listen, Black. I don’t know where you’re getting your information from, but these are wild exaggerations—”

  “I got it from you,” I said flatly. “Or rather, one of your reports. You people have held me before, remember?” I wouldn’t mention the box of files. She’d try to demand that I hand that over, too. “Detailed dismemberment, constant blood drains, poison, freezing, organ harvesting. Along with some stunning photography,” I said. “All signed C. Frost.”

  For some reason, calling her out completely enraged her. “Bullshit,” she spat. “Torture and dismemberment? My sister was a scientist, you murdering son of a bitch!”

  Sister?

  It took me a minute to find my voice again. “You’re saying you aren’t C. Frost.”

  “That was my sister. Connie.” Her teeth clenched, and her hands curled into white-knuckle fists. “You know. The one you shot at point-blank range, right before your brother cut her goddamned hand off.”

  Oh, Christ. I remembered now.

  It was the first time I’d faced Milus Dei. We’d just found the vault where they were keeping Daoin, and it was locked. With a handprint scanner. The place was rigged to explode, the countdown was on — and a crazy woman in a white lab coat, covered with what turned out to be Daoin’s blood, had rushed us with a flamethrower.

  So I’d shot her.

  I didn’t know what the hell I was doing yet. At the time, all I knew was that I could get information from dead people easier than living people, and her handprint opened the door. I’d already killed a handful of Milus Dei members.

  But she was the first one I’d actually felt like I murdered.

  “We recovered the surveillance footage,” Frost said when I failed to respond. “I saw you kill her. But because of the sensitive work she did, Connie wasn’t supposed to exist. So I can’t charge you with her murder.” She stepped closer, and I couldn’t help flinching. “There’s no way I want any more of your help.”

  Finally, she turned and walked away.

  I still couldn’t make any words leave my mouth. Jesus, no wonder she hated me. And it sure as hell sounded like she really didn’t know what kind of ‘sensitive’ work her sister had done. “Okay,” I finally managed, turning to regard a shaken Agent Gilmore. “I think I’ll stay away from your partner. If I find out anything more, can I contact you?”

  He let out a breath. “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll give you my cell,” he said, taking a business card from an inside pocket. “We really have to find this guy.”

  “Yeah.” I took the card and frowned. “So, you’re not pissed at me for murdering her sister?”

  “I saw the video, too. Clearly self-defense.” He tried to shrug, but there was discomfort in the gesture. I wasn’t sure if it was toward me or Frost. “I do appreciate your help, Mr. Black. If I could grant you access to the other victims…”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said.

  Unfortunately, I’d have to grant myself access, and soon.

  I just wouldn’t share that plan with Gilmore.

  CHAPTER 21

  It was still pretty early, relatively speaking, when I got back to the Castle. I wouldn’t have been surprised if everyone was still asleep, but Taeral and Sadie were in the parlor with Eli. Looked like they’d just finished breakfast. They were sitting at one of the tables, and Eli was poking at Taeral’s metal arm — an act he seemed to bear patiently. Or maybe he was too tired to protest.

  I’d have to get Donatti and Ian soon, tell everyone what little I’d found out and what I had to do next. But first, I had some news for Eli.

  And I had no idea how he’d take it, or if he’d even understand.

  “Hey,” I said to get their attention. Eli jumped a little, and Sadie looked over with a smile. “I need to talk to Eli for a minute, if that’s all right.”

  Concern flooded her face. Taeral looked a little worried, too. “What’s wrong?” Sadie said.

  “I’m not sure yet. But I think it’s going to be okay.” I drew a deep breath and let it out slow. “Eli, can you come here for a minute?”

  He blinked his black eyes, climbed down from the chair, and shuffled toward me. “Please, sorry. You’re my friend.”

  “Yes, I’m your friend. And you don’t have to be sorry.” I crouched in front of him, not sure how to begin. Finally I said, “I think I know who told you to run and find your friends.”

  “Red,” Eli said.

  I glanced at Sadie and Taeral. “He doesn’t mean the color,” I said. “Was his name Redfield?” I asked Eli.

  He squeaked in distress. “Red. Sorry, please, Red,” he said. “Bad-Red wants my friends.”

  “So it was Milus Dei.” Taeral went from concerned to furious in the space of a breath.

  “Yeah. They … made him, I guess,” I said. “I think he’s supposed to be a spy.”

  Sadie growled. “Well, they’re not taking him back!”

  “I know. They won’t.” I waited until Eli looked at me again. “You were supposed to report to Redfield,” I said. “Do you remember?”

  The little guy shivered. “Red wants my friends,” he said. “No friends … bad things.”

  I was starting to understand him better, and what he meant horrified me. Bad things would happen to him if he didn’t deliver. “No bad things are going to happen now. Because Red is gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Yes … and so is Wurther.”

  “Wurr!” Eli brightened considerably at the name. “Wurr is good. Eat-play-sleep. Please, Good-Wurr?”

  Oh, God. He wanted to see Wurther, and somehow I had to explain that his actual friend was dead. “Wurther is gone now, Eli,” I said carefully. “I’m sorry.”

  He scrunched his face in concentration. “Wurr. Gone. Where?”

  “Very far away,” I said hoarsely. “He can’t come back.”

  Eli’s features drooped. “Good-Wurr … dead?”

  “Yes.” I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “But he asked me — well, us, to take care of you. He wants you to stay here.”

  He blinked a few times, and then swiveled his head all the way from one side to the other. Taking in the parlor, Taeral and Sadie, and me. “Stay with good-Sadie,” he said. “Not bad-Red.”

  “That’s right.”

  Shivering faintly, Eli turned and approached the table. He stopped in front of Sadie. “Please, sorry. Wurr say … stay with you. Please, stay?”

  With a choked sob, Sadie dropped from the seat and hugged him. “Of course you can stay with me,” she said, the words broken and tumbling. “I want you to stay.”

  Taeral stood uncertainly and moved closer to them. “As do I.”

  “Good-Sadie.” Eli wrinkled his mouth into something like a smile, and then tilted to look up at Taeral. “Good-Tare.”

  “Aye. Good … Eli.” Taeral gave him an awkward pat.r />
  He might’ve been a little misty-eyed himself.

  “It’s settled, then. Eli stays.” I straightened, trying to convince myself I wasn’t as bone-weary exhausted as I felt. “Now, we have to get Donatti and Ian in here. I found out a few things that aren’t such good news.”

  Taeral nodded. “I’ll fetch them.”

  I would’ve suggested that might not be such a great idea, considering how fabulously he got along with Ian, but I was too tired to argue. I had to save my strength for explaining how screwed we were this time.

  CHAPTER 22

  Our guests were just as wiped out as the rest of us, but at least we were all in the same place without being at each other’s throats. Everyone had been listening more or less attentively without comment while I conveyed my morning. At least until I got to the part about the blood-drinking.

  “Blood magic is rarely used for good,” Ian said. “But djinn do not generally drink the blood of humans. Only other djinn, and scions.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Scions?”

  “Part-human relatives. Like me,” Donatti put in. “Just having scions around makes that djinn more powerful, and drinking their blood gives them a huge power boost. But human blood …” He shook his head. “I just don’t see the point.”

  “Perhaps these followers are his scions,” Taeral said, with a lot more reluctance than when he was slamming the Dehbei.

  This time Ian didn’t snap at him. “Djinn in the human realm cannot breed,” he said. “And yes, I am aware of how false that claim appears, considering Donatti’s existence. Believe me, he is a complicated exception.”

  Taeral actually smirked. “I’ve no trouble believing that.”

  “Hey. I think you just insulted me,” Donatti said — and smiled. “Now you’re getting the hang of it. Jumping on the insult-the-thief bandwagon, that’s the fastest way to Ian’s good side.”

  “With regard to human blood.” Ian spoke sternly, but there was affection in his tone. “It can be used for true blood magic. Manipulation of the blood itself.”

  One of the big words from the killer’s report summary flashed across my mind. “You mean like … hemokinetic abilities?”