Burned (A Magic Bullet Novel Book 1) (18 page)

P
ennsbury Hospital has been abandoned
for over twenty years. It isn't chock full of asbestos like the Willow Steam Plant. After the hospital closed due to bankruptcy, the building became tied up in a never-ending loop of litigation. As a result, it's sat empty and unprotected, waiting for the day it can rise from the ashes as luxury condos.

I got off at a bus stop five blocks away to get the lay of the land. This part of the city wasn't familiar to me so I had no clue what was around. If I needed somewhere to duck for cover after they chased my ass out of there, it would be good to know what my options were.

The entire area looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Rotting buildings, rusting cars, an eerie quiet. The old hospital lorded over this urban decay, a menacing tower in the distance.

My Ghul antenna was pinging wildly. This was their kind of place. Gloomy and forgotten. If you wandered through here on the wrong night without precautions, I guarantee you weren't walking out again.

I patted the Glock in my holster for comfort. Then I unsheathed the jade daggers to slice my way through the overgrown grass. I was pretty sure that I'd reached the area that had once been the parking lot, which meant I was close enough for their surveillance.

Once I got close enough to grab their attention, I stopped walking and held my hands in the air, still clutching the daggers. Then I made a big show of sheathing the daggers and placing my hands on my head. This wasn't a sneak attack. I needed to make it clear that I wanted to talk. If his operation ran the way I thought it did, he had men running surveillance round the clock.

A minute later two figures emerged from a side door of the hospital. His security team was coming to greet me.

I remained rooted to the ground, still in my submissive pose. Flynn would be so disappointed that he missed it.

I kept the men in my line of sight. Dark suits and ties. Definitely members of the crime syndicate. Who wore charcoal-colored suits in the height of summer? I bet they wore white after Labor Day, too.

"Hey fellas," I called. I was careful not to make any sudden moves. I had the sense that we could open fire here and no one within earshot would call the police. "I'm looking for your boss. Is he in?"

They halted about ten feet from me. "Depends who's asking," the taller one with a buzz cut said. A nasty scar ran down his left cheek. Despite the nice suits, these guys weren't for window dressing.

"Alyse Winters," I replied. "I'm doing a job for O'Leary."

Scarface stood quietly for a moment, as though listening intently. He must be wired. It was hard to gauge the boss man's reply. I flexed my fingers, just in case.

Finally, Scarface gestured for me to step forward. "No weapons," he said. His short, stocky friend held out a hand.

Reluctantly, I removed my daggers and handed them over. "Keep them where I can see them," I warned. "They have sentimental value. My best friend gave them to me as a welcome home present."

I took a step forward, but Scarface's arm shot out to keep me in place. He eyed me suspiciously. "And the firearm."

I huffed loudly. "Let me guess. You guys have a mage, too. I hope yours is as skilled as Pinky. Otherwise, I'd recommend trading up."

I pulled the Glock from my holster and gave it to Scarface.

The shorter one urged me forward with a sharp blow to my shoulder blade.

"Lighten up," I said. "I'm here to talk. If I were here to fight, you'd be dead already."

I fixed him with my hard stare. It was a look I'd perfected over time. Of course, the hard stare dovetailed nicely with the awesome powers that I no longer had access to, but these guys didn't know that.

The security detail didn't speak for the remainder of the walk. They simply escorted me inside the hospital and brought me to an empty corridor. The cracked floor tiles and partially exposed wires in the ceiling made the place look as derelict on the inside as it did on the outside.

"This is what Medicare gets you," I said.

Their expressions didn't change. The corridor emptied into what used to be the large lobby. The reception desk still stood in the center of the room, along with a graffitied car and about twenty hazardous waste bins.

"A very welcoming space," I said, surveying the decaying interior. At one time, the lobby would have been open and airy with its huge windows and high ceiling.

"Miss Winters," a man's voice said. Smooth as silk.

I looked up. An attractive man leaned against the railing at the top of the curved staircase. He was average height, with a slim build and a deeply tanned face. His dark hair was thick and wavy. I bet he could grow a mustache in a day if he wanted to. Despite his professionally dressed friends, he sported cargo shorts and a black T-shirt.

"You must be the man I'm looking for," I said.

"Why don't you join me upstairs and we'll find out?"

I glanced sharply at my escorts. "You lose my weapons, I lose my temper."

No reaction again. Tough crowd.

Slowly, I walked upstairs to meet their boss, effecting a casual attitude. No need for them to figure out that I was actually powerless without my weapons, unless their mage had already ruined my secret.

"Is it casual Friday?" I asked, noting his black flip-flops. "Your friends didn't get the memo."

He cracked a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. They were like two hard stones and solely focused on me. "I notice that you seem equally at home in casual clothes."

He eyed my soccer mom attire, and I noticed the gentle, disapproving curl of his lip. He had no idea how much I missed my designer clothes and overpriced heels.

"This is a nice place you have here," I said. "A lick of paint and you'll be fighting off the buyers."

As he moved closer to me, the strong stench of men's cologne nearly knocked me back down the staircase. He smelled like he'd been trapped for a month inside the glass fragrance counter at the mall.

"My name is Vito Nocita." He extended his hand and I shook it, trying not to breathe too deeply. I saw his gaze drift to my copper cuff. "Why don't we move to a more private room where we can speak freely?"

Without waiting for a response, he flip-flopped his way down a nearby corridor. The walls up here were filled with large, dark patches, probably from long-term water damage.

He stepped into a room halfway down the corridor and I followed him inside. When he closed the door behind me, I tried not to flinch. The room was empty except for a rusty bed frame and a defunct overhead light. The walls were covered in blue tiles, many of them cracked and chipped. It was hard to imagine that this was once a room where people were healed. It looked more like the setting of a horror movie.

"It appears that we have mutual friends," Vito said.

"Friends is a bit of a stretch," I replied.

"Be that as it may, I understand you are looking for something of value."

I nodded. "An heirloom that belongs to Jimmy O'Leary."

Vito looked at me expectantly. "Anything else?"

"I'm also investigating the recent murders."

He nodded solemnly. "The Nephilim."

"And others."

"And you think because organs were missing that we may have played a role in these murders." His tone was casual, as though I'd asked whether he'd attended last week's Phillies game.

"You tell me." I didn't like this room at all. I would have preferred this conversation take place downstairs in the lobby. Although there was nothing obvious here that could be used to hurt me, it gave off a bad vibe. Unpleasant things had happened here at one time and the residual negative energy remained.

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. "You're on a fool's errand, Miss Winters. I don't have Jimmy's heirloom, and it's disrespectful to send you around asking his own people about it. That's no way to maintain relationships in the syndicate. Then again, Jimmy is destined for obscurity."

"But not you?"

He made a popping sound with his lips. "My position is very lucrative for the syndicate."

"Yet without O'Leary, nobody sees the fruits of your labor," I pointed out. Dirty money didn't launder itself.

"Money men like Jimmy are a dime a dozen," he scoffed. "Any ape can run a casino. What I do is more sophisticated. More sublime."

That statement told me everything I needed to know about Vito Nocita. He fancied himself so much more than your friendly neighborhood mobster. He was both a savvy businessman and an artist. This guy had ambition. It rolled off of him in waves.

"You butcher people who have little or no options," I said, trying to keep the bile from rising into my throat. "I don't call that sophisticated or sublime. I call that disgusting."

His expression hardened and the vein in his neck throbbed. I probably should have kept my feelings to myself, especially when I was alone in a room with a delusional maniac and no weapons in sight.

"Our surgeons do not butcher anyone," he said in a clipped tone. Yep, I'd definitely insulted him. "Do we have the occasional death? I'm afraid that we do, but no more than a major hospital. I have someone who keeps track of our statistics."

"How efficient."

His brown eyes simmered with hatred. "In answer to your question, these murders have nothing to do with our business here. We are not foolish enough to slaughter the Nephilim or magicians for that matter. We have no desire to bring attention to our operation." No pun intended, surely.

I decided to ask my next question although I was pretty sure I already knew the answer. "Did you send Ifrits to the Willow Street Plant to kill me?"

He frowned. "We do not use djinn to clean up our messes. We humans are more than capable of taking care of our business without the need for supernatural interference."

"But you use magicians," I said. "How do you justify that?"

"I was unaware I had to justify anything to you," he said through gritted teeth. I had a feeling our little interview had reached its unsatisfying conclusion.

"Do you have any information that might help us find the murderer?" I asked. It was worth a shot, even if he was a huge prick with an ego to match.

"I have no interest in matters that don't impact my business," he said.

"Would it concern you if you ended up missing your heart? Or would it need to be a more vital organ to get your attention? I imagine you function quite well without a heart."

He pushed himself away from the wall and sauntered toward me slowly and deliberately, like a predator assessing its prey. "Miss Winters, you are fortunate that you are currently employed by one of our own. Otherwise, I would kill you right now. In fact, I'm still considering it."

He meant it, too. It seemed Vito had taken a dislike to me. Well, the feeling is mutual, pal.

I smiled, making sure to bare my teeth. "Relationships are all about timing, Vito. We'll get our chance someday. I promise."

I moved toward the door when he called to me. "I do hope you'll still be wearing your bracelets when the opportunity arises. I'd like to keep them as tokens of affection when I've cut off your hands."

My still-intact hand hovered over the doorknob. Rage rushed through me, but I knew I couldn't act. Not today.

I jerked open the door and stalked downstairs where my escorts were waiting. I didn't say a word; I simply held out my hands for the return of my weapons. They complied in silence and I left the hospital, struggling to control my anger. Vito Nocita was bad news. Very bad.

My hands were tied right now, but one of these days I would kill him, even if I had to do it with my bare human hands.

It was time to set up another training session. As much as I hated to do it, I plucked the phone from my bra and texted Flynn.

I
hadn't heard
from Detective Thompson or Captain Reed since the Ifrit attack, so I was surprised when his number popped up on my screen.

"You sound alive and well," he said when I answered.

"I healed eventually. How's the investigation coming along?"

He hesitated. "You know I can't share that information with you."

At least he hesitated. That meant he considered it. I guess in his upstanding world, no sane person would stage an attack on herself to deflect suspicion. Sweet but naive.

"I'd like to talk to the two Protectors who were at Viper Pit with Lieutenant Mayer the night he died."

"What makes you think I'd allow it?"

"You can be there. Make sure I don't do anything untoward." His silence was golden. I pushed on. "Come on, Captain. If you want me to prove I didn't do it and help you find the real killers, you need to throw me a bone."

"Fine. I'll allow it, but I don't know what you think you're going to learn that we didn't. We are professionals, you know."

"So am I."

His deep sigh reverberated in my ear. "Be here in half an hour."

I clicked off the phone and turned to find Farah staring at me with round, pleading eyes.

"Take me with you," Farah begged.

"No can do. This is my interview." I had somehow gotten myself into this mess, and I had to be the one to clean it up. I didn't want to involve Farah any more than I already had and have her resent me the way Mix did.

"If there's a possibility that I can sit in a small room with three Nephilim as hot as Captain Reed, I want in."

I rolled my eyes. Only Farah would involve herself in a witness interview purely for the sake of sniffing out potential sex partners.

"Next time, Farah. I can't afford to push my luck with this."

I left the apartment and walked to the not-so-secret Office of the Protectorate near City Hall. The arches of my feet ached the whole way. Comfortable shoes were quickly moving up the priority list.

The building reminded me of the old Drake Hotel on Spruce Street, a mixture of Art Deco and Spanish Baroque architecture. It was more visually interesting than I expected from the Milquetoast Brigade.

Reed met me at the entrance and immediately requested my weapons.

"Are you handing them over to security?" I asked.

"I'll hold on to them if that makes you happy," he replied.

"Happy's probably overstating it." We walked to the elevator bank and he pushed the button. The lobby buzzed with activity, like a newspaper office back when print was king.

"So I've ruled out the organ trafficker," I said as we stepped into the elevator.

His head snapped toward me. "You met him?"

I nodded. "Kinda wish I hadn't. He's not a man to be messed with, in case you were wondering."

"But you don't think he's involved?"

"Definitely not. That's why I thought it was worth talking to your people. See if there's another thread I can pull."

We left the elevator and walked down another long corridor to a spacious room with a comfy couch and plush chairs. A vending machine and a water cooler ran along the far wall.

"I'll bring them in now." He gave me a stern look. "And be nice, Miss Winters. They're still mourning their friend." He left me alone in the room.

"Be nice," I grumbled. "What does he think I'm going to say?"

Reed returned with the two Nephilim, a male and a female. They were in plain clothes, whether that was because they were off-duty or on administrative leave following the death, I wasn't sure.

"Alyse Winters, these are Lieutenants Starr and Hauser. They were at Viper Pit with Lieutenant Mayer the night he died."

Hauser, the female Protector, was plainer than I would've expected with stick-straight brown hair and small eyes. Most of the Nephilim were insanely attractive. Like Starr. He had the broad shoulders and striking face that I associated with the angel-human offspring.

I sat in the plush chair across from them and tried to keep things low-key and comfortable. Reed was doing me a favor and I didn't want to blow it. I had no authority here; I wasn't a detective and we all knew my agent status was on hold.

"I know these will be questions that you've answered already," I told them, "but sometimes a different perspective can change the way we view information."

"Detective Thompson interviewed us, too."

"I'm sure the detective did a credible job," I said. "But no one has accused her of murder." Although they did try to kill her along with me. Probably best to leave out that part.

Hauser and Starr exchanged glances. "You're the cuffed djinn?" Starr asked.

I guess Reed left out something, too.

"Whose idea was it to go to Viper Pit that night?" I asked.

"We went every week," Starr replied. "It was part of our routine."

Routine. Yes, the Nephilim were known for sticking to routines. It was part of their whole uptight, rules and regulations persona.

"Do you always hang out in the VIP lounge?" I asked.

Hauser shook her head. "Never. We didn't that night either. We'd been dancing on the dance floor."

"Which room?" I asked.

"The Green Room," Hauser replied. "There was a guy that Starr had his eye on. He'd been there the week before, so we made sure to go back the same time that night."

I bit back a laugh. Good thing Farah stayed behind. She would have been disappointed to learn that Starr was gay and Hauser was female. Her mind only moved in one direction and, if the destination wasn't Pleasure Town, she simply jumped tracks.

I returned my focus to the two Protectors in front of me and immediately felt pressure in my head. I craned my neck to glare at Captain Reed.

"Get out," I said.

He gave me an innocent look. "What?"

"You know what."

"Where is Pleasure Town, exactly?" he asked. "I haven't noticed it on any map."

"Stay out of my head. It's rude and unethical."

"You're asking questions about that night," he said. "What are you afraid I'm going to find in there?"

"Captain," I said. "If you don't stop right now, I will send you images that you will never, ever be able to forget. Trust me, you will very much regret poking around in here." I tapped my temple.

One of the Protectors stifled a laugh. Starr, I think.

"Either of you telepathic?" I asked, returning my attention to them. "Or Mayer?"

They shook their heads. Too bad. Telepathy could have saved his life.

"So why did Mayer go to the VIP lounge?" I asked.

"I don't know," Starr answered. "I was talking to Mark, that's the guy I met, and Hauser went to the bar for another round. When she came back to the dance floor, he was gone."

"Was that typical for him?" I asked. "Wandering off in a club?"

Hauser smiled grimly. "If a girl smiled at him, sure." I got the sense that Hauser had wanted to be the smiling girl that caught his eye. It would never happen now.

"The waitress in the lounge said that she saw him talking to a brunette right before he died," I said.

"I heard she looked like you," Hauser said.

"Funny, I heard the same thing," I replied.

"It didn't take much to turn Mayer's head," Starr said. "The promise of a vagina would do the trick."

Hauser's expression clouded over. "That's not strictly true."

Boy, she'd really wanted to get in Mayer's pants. Ah, the young and horny Nephilim. Who would've believed it? I thought they spent all their free time reciting the Pledge of Allegiance and rescuing puppies from trees.

"I think you mean cats," Reed said from behind me. "Puppies don't climb trees."

I whipped around. "Which is precisely why they would need rescuing." I narrowed my eyes. "Anyway, I told you to knock it off."

"I'm sorry, but you really have a distorted view of the Nephilim," he said. "Where did you learn this stuff?"

"There was a book we had to read at the Academy," I replied with a dismissive flick of my hand. "
Djinn Are From the Plasma Plane and the Nephilim Are Plain Choirboys
."

"Somehow I doubt that," he said.

"You doubt a lot of things about me, hence my presence here today. Now can you please stay out of my head? If I could, I'd put it in lockdown."

"But it's so fascinating in there," he objected, "once you get past all the anger and resentment."

I straightened in the chair. "What anger and resentment?" If I was going to spend any length of time in this city, I really had to hire a mage to put a protective spell on my brain.

He chuckled. "Relax, Winters. Finish your questions so my people can leave. They're off-duty. Let them enjoy themselves, if they can figure out how, that is."

Captain StickUptheAss was toying with me. How quaint.

Another question occurred to me. "Did you know the other Protector?" I asked the two lieutenants. "Lieutenant Adams."

They both nodded.

"Adams was a nice guy," Starr said. "He came to Viper Pit with us a few times, but he didn't dance or drink."

Hauser nodded. "I think he just liked the company."

"No girlfriends or boyfriends? Anyone special?" I glanced at Reed, who shook his head.

"We tend to keep to ourselves," Hauser said.

"The Nephilim or the Protectorate?" All members of the Protectorate were Nephilim, but not all Nephilim were in the Protectorate. Squares and rectangles.

Hauser shifted uncomfortably. "The Protectorate. The Nephilim who don't serve seem to mingle more with the human population. At least in this colony."

"You said Mayer had an eye for the ladies. What about Adams?"

"He was lonely, I think," Starr admitted. "I know he had an account with an online dating site. One of the sites that specializes in human girls meeting supernaturals."

It was a decent lead. Those sites tended to be on the small side, given that the supernatural world remained hidden from most humans.

Reed blinked. "Why am I just hearing about this now?"

Starr's gaze dropped to the floor. "He'd closed his account before he died. I assumed he'd lost interest in it and I didn't want him to be embarrassed."

"He's dead, Starr," Reed said coldly. "His embarrassment is no longer an issue."

Starr raked a hand through his light brown hair. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think it was relevant at the time, especially because he wasn't using it. Now that we're talking about Mayer, too, I can see that maybe the loneliness played a role in his death. Made him an easier target."

Hauser nodded in agreement. "Seems like the female accomplice was likely responsible for luring both of them." She gave me an appreciative look. "Like Miss Winters said, sometimes a different perspective helps flesh things out."

I folded my arms and flashed Reed a triumphant smile. He didn't look pleased with his people.

"Thanks, you've both been very helpful," I said and stood to leave.

"Miss Winters," Hauser began and hesitated.

"Yes?"

"Why does everyone say the female accomplice is a mage? Why not a djinni working alone? Maybe a female they rejected?"

"You mean a djinni like me?" I tried not to be offended. After all, I'd probably killed more living creatures than she'd managed to bang. My hands were not exactly clean.

She lowered her gaze.

"I think your captain agrees that the murders don't suggest a vengeful djinni," I said. "And the cloaking spell in Viper Pit has a mage's fingerprints all over it."

"What about a Shaitan?" Hauser asked. "They're master deceivers. If she's a Shaitan, she could use mind tricks."

"If she were a Shaitan, then the waitress at Viper Pit would have referred to her as the most beautiful girl the waitress had ever seen, but with a furry tail sticking out of her ass."

"You sound pretty certain," Starr said.

"I'd bet my life on it." When you've been around death and deception as much as I have been, you learn a few things, whether you want to or not. "Thanks again. I'll see you around, Captain."

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"There's a mage I've been meaning to talk to." Pinky was as blond as they came, but she was talented enough to look like me if the situation required it. A simple glamour spell would be child's play for her.

"Need any backup?" Reed asked.

"No, but if I pass a puppy stuck up a tree, I'll give you a call." I sailed out the door, a smile on my lips. Some guys were simply too easy to irritate.