“Didn’t say you didn’t. So let’s assume you saw ghosts-or something-that could take apart a spell like cotton candy and eat it. If there really is something out there like that, then we might just have a problem on our hands.”
Had a real flair with the understatement, that man.
“Have you talked to anyone else about it?”
“I mentioned ghosts to a friend of mine. I didn’t talk about the magic eating thing.”
He stared off in the middle distance, obviously rolling options around. “I’ll ask some people I know. But I think the best way to find out what you’re experiencing might be to ask Stotts about it.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t work so good for me,” I said. “I have a strict rule: only one person per day gets to find out how crazy I am. Plus he’s signing my paycheck. I don’t need him thinking I’ve gone insane.”
“I see,” Pike said. “When you decide to stop being such a pansy ass and worrying about what people think about you instead of your own safety, talk to Stotts. He has the inside track on a lot of the weird shit that happens in this town.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a jerk?”
Pike grunted, but it sounded more like a laugh. “At length. Now talk to me about Trager,” he said.
“First tell me what happened to your hand. It was bleeding this morning.”
“That’s none of your business, Beckstrom.”
We stared each other down until I got tired of it.
Jerk.
“I had a little meeting with Lon Trager today. On the bus.”
So much for Pike the jerk. Even though he didn’t move, didn’t twitch, he transformed into Pike the killer.
“Explain.” Cold as steel.
“He sat next to me. Had six of his thugs with guns with him. Told me he wanted me to do him a favor, and all the bad blood between us would be forgotten. He said he wants to make nice.” I waited, but Pike didn’t say anything.
“He wants me to bring you to him. By midnight tomorrow.”
“And?”
“And he got some of my blood.”
We both knew what that meant. Trager intended to use my blood with magic. I, however, didn’t know what he might want to do with it other than cast that glyph thing he’d left on my thigh. I hadn’t studied blood magic in school. Probably because it was illegal.
“What do you think he’s going to do with it?” I asked.
Pike was looking straight at me, but I could tell from his unfocused gaze that it was not me he was thinking about. He was weighing possibilities, costs, outcome.
“Nothing good,” he finally said. “I want you to let me take care of him.”
“Like hells I will. Weren’t you just saying we have to watch each other’s backs? Hounds don’t Hound alone and all that crap? Trager wanted both of us there. Wanted me to deliver you to him. I’m not going to be left behind and killed because you want to take him mano a mano.”
Pike’s face flushed, and I could see the veins at his temples. He was very, very angry. At me. I braced myself, ready to yell it out or, hell, fight it out with him until he realized how stupid it would be for him to take care of Trager alone.
But Pike did not yell. He closed his eyes and rubbed his palm over his face. “Allie. This is between him and me.”
“No, Pike. It’s not. I know you want to kill him for what he did to your granddaughter. But it’s time to stop being pansy asses and acting like we don’t need help. We should go talk to the police about this. We should get protection-both of us. I have proof that can put him in jail-he threatened me and stabbed me in the leg. No one can tamper with that evidence, and I can’t be bought. Let’s get him legal, so legal he’ll never see the light of day, never hurt anyone’s granddaughter again.”
Pike pulled his hand away from his face. He didn’t look angry. He looked tired.
“Allie…”
“Legal, Pike. Let’s do this right. Let’s get this bastard for life.”
He looked down. Stared at the floor. Finally he nodded. Slow. Beaten. Old.
He tipped his head back up. “You’re right,” he said, his voice tired. “That’s the smart thing to do. Get the police on it, help them if they need it. I could find him if they want me to. I’ll never forget that devil’s stench. But I can’t go down to the station today. I promise I’ll meet you there tomorrow afternoon.”
A wave of relief, a knot of fear released in me. “Morning would be better, don’t you think?”
“I got crap to do with Anthony-for his mother. It will take most of the night tonight and part of tomorrow.”
“What kind of crap?” I was afraid he was evading this, evading me, trying to find a way to ditch on our deal.
He winced. “Handyman crap.” He tugged his sleeve back to reveal his wrist. The gauze bandage was wrapped up his forearm about six inches, and thick gauze pads lay across the inside of his wrist. It looked like a poorly executed suicide attempt.
“Pike, you didn’t try to…”
“Christ, Beckstrom. What are you thinking?” He tugged his sleeve back down. “I damn near took my hand off with a goddamn circular saw this morning. And I still have to fix the sink, take care of a broken window, and patch a hole in the goddamn roof. I’m going to get that done before I deal with the cops. And you can wipe that smile off your face.”
“I always knew you were a good guy, Pike.”
“Shove it, Beckstrom.”
“Noon tomorrow at the station?” I asked sweetly.
He nodded. “Might be as late as one, but around then.”
“You do know I’m going to talk to Stotts about Trager tonight, right?” I said.
“Figured you would.”
“He’ll want to put you under protective custody,” I said.
“He’ll know where to find me, won’t he?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t say anything. That was almost harder, seeing him give in like that. It was another sign of how ready he was to retire, to be done with all this, to let the police take care of the city without him.
“Thanks for doing this the right way,” I added.
“You don’t think I’m going to do this without asking for something in return, do you?” he asked.
“Seriously?” Not that I should be surprised. Nothing without a price in this town. Not even friendship. “What do you want?”
“I want you to promise me you’ll stay here in the city. After I… retire. ’Cause this damn sure is going to be the last time I work with the police. And when the Hounds contact you, if they need you-even if they say they don’t-that you’ll go to them. Look after them.”
“You know,” I said, “we’re friends.” I stumbled a little on the last word, but it was true. Of all the Hounds I knew, Pike and I had hit off a strange sort of dysfunctional teacher-student, or maybe even father-daughter relationship. “But you are so not my boss. No one tells me what to do.”
“I’m telling you what to do. And I expect you to listen to me.” Then, a little softer. “Just this once.”
What would it matter if I said yes? I didn’t think Pike was going to be retired for long. He’d be back, after he got tired of the sun and sand. Back to boss me and all the rest of the Hounds around. Back to take a kid under his wing and try to set him straight.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll look after your little sewing circle for as long as it lasts. That’s all I’m promising.”
“That’s enough.”
He leaned away from the stud and opened the door. The heavy smells from a restaurant mixed with the perfume of the candle shop. I realized I hadn’t eaten lunch yet. But the smells were overwhelming and triggered my headache. Add to that a nice helping of brighter light out in the main hallway, and my hunger turned to nausea in
