The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 2: Cold Wars (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #2) (22 page)

“He never did, Mr. Belasco. Not that I recall.”

“But I’m sure he let all sorts of other interesting tidbits reach those big ears of yours, eh, little buddy?” Belasco leaned forward, grasping the foot of the bed. “How about spilling just a few to your favorite Uncle Bobby? Come on, champ – I’ll let you eat ice cream for every meal.”

“I don’t want ice cream for every meal.”

“We’ll give you more toys, little guy. All the ones you want!”

“I don’t want more toys!” Weatherby’s temper unfurled. He stepped off of his bed, glaring at Belasco. “I don’t care for the ones I have, nor any of the amusements you provide me with! And furthermore, my name is not ‘champ’ or ‘sport’ or ‘little cowboy’ or any other of these disgusting monikers that you have christened me with. My name, Mr. Belasco, is Weatherby Ignatius Stein. That is the name my parents gave me, and I am quite proud of it! Kindly refer to me as that, sir!” He had to pause for breath after his outburst.

Belasco’s smile remained, frozen like his face had been replaced with a still photograph. He reached down and picked up one of Weatherby’s race cars. “Why don’t you like any of this stuff, Weatherby?” he asked. “We’ve given you everything a kid could want. Why don’t you want to play ball?”

“They are bribes,” Weatherby replied. “And my parents taught me that I should resist temptation and do what is right.”

“You mean the parents that are lying in a shallow grave in Europe, right?” Belasco smiled even wider at Weatherby’s look of rage. “Sorry. Touch a nerve, did I? Well, that’s just too bad.” He turned to the stenographer. “Honey, give your fingers a rest. I don’t want any of this recorded.”

Her fingers stopped, and she looked up silently at Weatherby and Belasco. The CIA Agent leaned back in his chair. “Look, kid, I’ll level with you – this little project had a lot of potential. The scion to the greatest occult family in all of Europe, falling right into our lap. You must know all kinds of interesting things that would be perfect for wetwork. But you won’t talk. And now there’s talk of shutting the project down.”

He said it like a death sentence. Weatherby looked at his shoes. His bravado left him. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “But I won’t use my knowledge for evil. I won’t tell you the secrets of the world.”

“For evil?” Belasco asked. “We’re the Americans, kid! We’re the goddamn good guys!”

“I’ve maintained several subscriptions to newspapers, and that’s not what I see. Look at your actions in Latin America, and throughout other countries that you fear are turning communist. Look at your hounding of every citizen whom you suspect of having radical views. Look at your actions towards Negro citizens in the South or the Japanese during the war. I cannot give supernatural power to such a people. You would misuse it, and it would be my fault.”

“Look, kid, we’re not the Nazis!” Belasco cried. “Look how nice we’ve been to you, for Christ’s sake! We’ve treated you like a prince, and you won’t give us the time of day!”

“You’re not as bad as the Third Reich. Congratulations!” Weatherby replied. “And you have kept me a prisoner. True, I am treated well, but you won’t let me leave, you will only let me communicate with my sister through mail – which you read and censor – and you hound me to talk to you! That’s the only reason you care about me.”

Belasco stood up. “Well, I think we just used that reason up. You won’t talk? Fine.” His good humor vanished. His smile disappeared too, and he stared darkly at Weatherby as he came to his feet. “I’m gonna make my report to my superiors, and tell them that you’re an ungrateful little brat who won’t tell us a goddamn thing. They’ll cut you loose in a second. You’ll be on your own, wandering the streets of New York without a home or money or nothing. Is that what you want? Is it, little man?”

“Yes!” Weatherby cried. “I want this to be finished!”

“Good. That’s exactly what you’ll get.” Belasco turned to the door. “You’ll be out of here by the end of the week, kid. We’ve got a bunch of your dead old man’s things, brought over from the castle in Europe. Feel free to take everything you want when you leave. We’ll toss the rest in the incinerator, along with the rest of this crap.” He nodded to the secretary, who silently stood up. “Is that what you want, Weatherby?”

Weatherby lowered his head. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll take my father’s things and leave. I’ll go be with my sister.”

“Good luck, kid.” Belasco didn’t look back. “But don’t be mad if I don’t wish you more of a goodbye. You were an ungrateful little brat.”

“And you are a Machiavellian rogue,” Weatherby retorted.

“Heh.” Belasco moved to close the door. “See you around, Weatherby Ignatius Stein.” He pronounced the boy’s name slowly and deliberately, and slammed the door behind him.

Slowly, Weatherby sat back on the bed. He wondered if he had made the right decision. He could only hope that he had. There was no apologizing, no turning back now. One way or the other, he was finished with being a would-be pawn of the CIA. For better or worse, from now on, he was on his own.

Bobby Belasco told the truth. Weatherby was taken away from his cottage by the end of the week, and driven into New York. Before he left, he went through his father’s things, and saved as many of the relics, magical supplies, and artifacts as he could. He found his father’s vest, tie, and frock coat. It was purchased in Berlin, around the turn of the century.

Weatherby put on the stiff Victorian suit, and carefully knotted the tie. It hung heavily on his shoulders, but he wore it still. He closed his eyes, and thought of his father, and then walked away from the cabin to the waiting taxi cab. The CIA paid for the taxi to take him anywhere he wanted to go. That was the last kindness they showed him.

The taxi ride was the first time he had been to New York City, and he stared at amazement at the towers that seemed to pierce the clouds, the great surging masses of people, fighting and pacing together on the sidewalks and streets, and everywhere, the blistering light and noise of the greatest metropolis in the world. Weatherby’s father had shown him magic before, but the boy could hardly have imagined something as amazing as New York.

He knew just the address for them to take them him to. That was how Selena Stein opened the door of her dorm, a small apartment which she shared with two other college girls, and saw her little brother smiling up at her, dressed in their father’s best suit.

“Weatherby,” Selena said. “Oh God.” She reached down and embraced him. For a long while, they didn’t say anything.

Weatherby hadn’t seen his sister since she left for boarding school, a lifetime and a long and bloody war ago. They had kept in touch with letters and photographs, but this was the first time he had seen her in person. He could hardly believe his eyes. Selena was tall and willowy, with short dark hair ending just below her ears. She shared his thin nose, round spectacles and bright eyes. She wore trousers, something that would never happen at home, and a maroon NYU sweater. A silver necklace, ending in a pendant with a crescent moon, rested on her slim neck.

She let go of Weatherby and ushered him inside. Suddenly, she was full of words. “You look wonderful, Weatherby! That suit – it is father’s, isn’t it? – It looks wonderful on you. And you’re so tall. You look very handsome, you know. I bet the girls would like you very much.” She paused finally. “Oh God, Weatherby,” she said. “It’s so good to see you.”

“I know,” Weatherby agreed. “It is wonderful to see you as well, Selena.”

Her roommates were inside, and Weatherby introduced himself politely and carefully, Selena smiling the whole time. Selena’s roommates cleared out quickly, letting them sit on the small couch across from the little television set, and finally talk. Selena hurried into the kitchen, and made them both a small mug of tea. Weatherby looked around their room. It was cozy – but cramped.

“So, what happened with the government?” Selena asked, coming back with a steaming mug in each hand. “It didn’t work out?”

“No, it didn’t,” Weatherby agreed. “They ‘cut me loose,’ to use their parlance.” Selena sat down next to him and handed him the cup. “Thank you,” he added. “And I suppose it’s rather a good thing. They cared for me, and gave me whatever I wanted – but only if I offered to help them, and that I refused.”

“Why, exactly?” Selena asked. “I’m not doubting you, I’d just like to know.”

“Well, father made me promise… right near, right near the end.” Weatherby closed his eyes. Selena put her hand around his shoulder and held him close. His voice cracked. “He told me that we had a great deal of knowledge, and that it is our duty to use it for good, and never to harm the world. He told me that the world is dark enough, without letting all of the strange monstrosities out of the dark to run riot on the earth.” He leaned forward, his eyes closing. “I miss them, Selena. I miss them so much.”

Selena hugged him. Weatherby felt terribly small. He blinked his eyes, trying his best not to cry. “I know,” Selena agreed. “I know.” She held him close to her and finally he opened his eyes and sat up. He leaned back. “So,” Selena finally said. “Would you, well, like to stay here?”

“I would, I suppose,” Weatherby said. “If that is acceptable to you, of course.” He came to his feet, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes and stand as tall as possible. “I have no wish to be a burden. I’m the patriarch of the Stein family, the last one alive, and it’s my duty to protect and care for you.”

“Oh, Weatherby.” Selena stood up. “You’re my baby brother. You could never be a burden. Why don’t you rest a little, and then we’ll have dinner. There’s this place called Sardi’s that I’ll know you love. You have to try it, dear, you just have to.”

“And you can afford it?”

“Mother and father left me a decent sum. I’ve taken a job as a secretary in one of the agencies uptown, just for a little more. I’ll manage.” She smiled, and Weatherby smiled back. “I’m afraid all the beds are taken, but I guess you can sleep here on the couch – until we figure something else out, of course. But you will stay with me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Thank you, Selena.” Weatherby leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. For the first time since he arrived in America, he felt just a little safe.

The next set of weeks passed quickly and happily, and with a little discomfort that Weatherby barely noticed. When she was off of class and work, Selena took him to Times Square to see the lights and advertisements, then to the top of the Empire State Building, and finally out to the Statue of Liberty. They went shopping and had dinner at good restaurants, and Weatherby enjoyed every moment of it. She even let him sit in for her folklore and anthropology classes, and he enjoyed it, though he often corrected the professors.

Life at the dorm was difficult, as living with three young women was not easy for a gawky teenage boy. But the manners of his mother and the decorum of his father prevailed, and Selena’s roommates became quite fond of the nervous, exceedingly polite and formal boy sharing their dorm. Selena promised him that she would get him enrolled in a good school soon, and he could start meeting children his own age. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but he had no desire to argue with his sister.

Then one morning, he heard her at the door just before the sunrise. Weatherby sat up in his makeshift bed, and heard the creak of the door. “Selena?” he asked, as he came to his feet. He was still in his striped pajamas, and she stopped to look at him. “Selena, where are you going? You don’t have class at this unreasonable hour, do you?”

“I h-have to catch an early train, on the subway,” she explained. “And then I’m going into Brooklyn.”

“But why?” Weatherby suddenly saw the lack of a shimmer on her graceful neck. “And where’s your necklace? The one with the crescent moon?” Then he saw it was in her hands. “What are you going to do with it?”

“There’s a pawn shop there, Weatherby, that I’ve heard grand things about,” Selena explained. “I’ll get an excellent rate for it.”

Weatherby was instantly fully awake. “Mother bought that for you, in town, on your eleventh birthday. I remember it well. You were so happy, and you’ve always treasured it. Why on earth would you want to be rid of such a wonderful thing?”

Selena paused. “I don’t want to sell it.” She looked away. “But I think I need the money. Paying for your meals and clothes – it’s eating into the funds our parents left for me. And I want to move out of here soon, and get you a proper house. I’ll have to stop school, I suppose, and get a second job, but this will do in the meantime.”

“
Quit school
?” Weatherby shook his head. “But you are doing so well here, and I can see you are going to excel greatly. You can’t end your education, not for my sake. Mother and father would never—”

“They wouldn’t want their son to go hungry!” Selena cried. She sighed and hurried to Weatherby’s side. “I don’t like it,” she said. “But keeping you safe, and happy – that’s the most important thing right now. You’re still a child, Weatherby. Let me worry about this. Enjoy your childhood, please, while you can.”

“I’m not a child. Not anymore.” Weatherby’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Don’t sell your necklace. Promise me you won’t sell it. Not for a day, at least. I’ll go out into the city and find something. I’ll find a solution.” He tried to steady his voice. “Please, Selena. Just for a day.”