Dark Tomorrow (Bo Blackman Book 6) (2 page)

‘I didn’t actually kill that one, it was set up for the cameras,’ I say absently. Foxworthy blinks. I dismiss his surprise. ‘And he’s the one I’m after. He was with me in front of the Montserrat building right after it…’ I swallow, my words disappearing.

‘He’s alive?’

I barely manage a nod. If I think too much about X, the darkness inside me begins to take over. I’ll do almost anything to see him dead – but I can’t give in my baser impulses. Not again.

Foxworthy rubs his chin, his rough stubble hinting at how long it’s been since he was last home. ‘There were some vague eyewitness reports of a Kakos daemon in the area. I think a team started to look into him but they were called off onto other matters.’

I hiss in irritation. I know the police have to prioritise but sometimes they can’t see the damned wood for the trees.

Foxworthy reaches forward and touches my arm. ‘I’m sorry about Michael Montserrat. I didn’t know him personally but I knew he meant a lot to you.’

He doesn’t know that Michael’s still alive, doesn’t know that he’s been turned into a human by X, every vestige of his vampirism stripped away. I don’t tell him; the fewer people who know right now, the better. Michael’s safety depends upon it.

‘Thanks,’ I say gruffly.

Foxworthy isn’t finished. ‘But you can’t do this, Bo. You can’t start a vendetta against the Kakos daemons. They’ll eat you for breakfast. You need to leave London, get as far away from here as possible. There’s nothing left for you now and it really isn’t safe.’

‘I appreciate your concern,’ I tell him. I mean it. But this is my city and I’m not leaving. Not for anyone.

There’s a loud knock on the door and Nicholl’s voice drifts through. ‘You fallen in, Foxworthy?’

‘You should go.’

I nod and reach into my pocket, pulling out a burner phone. ‘Find an address for the daemon,’ I urge. ‘You can contact me with this.’

His fingers brush against mine as he takes it. ‘Okay,’ he says simply and I know from the way he looks at me that he will do his very best. It’s all I can ask for. I force a smile and step back, letting him go. One down.

***

The Agathos Court seems much less busy than the police station. It’s hardly surprising; I think all but the most urgent of cases have been postponed, given the events of this week. All the same, I’m glad that Harry is actually doing some work for a change. His office building has some stringent anti-vampire security in place and, while I can easily circumnavigate it, I’ve already threatened the building’s owner once before. I have enough people gunning for me; there’s no need to add to the tally unnecessarily.

I stride in through the plate-glass front doors, restored and reinforced since the court was attacked last year. Fortunately, the personnel hasn’t changed. The frowning face of the woman at the front desk is one that I recognise. There’s only one person in front of her, an irate Agathos daemon who is blithely unconcerned about what’s been going on in the city and who is only worried about his own predicament.

‘I demand that my trial goes ahead today!’ he shrieks. ‘I’ve been waiting six months! You can’t expect me to wait longer just because a bunch of guzzlers have corked it. It’s completely unreasonable!’ With each word, his voice gets higher and higher. I wince. Extra reinforcement or not, if he manages much more of this then all that pretty new glass will be shattered again.

Meg, the stern receptionist with eyebrows that have a life of their own and a personality as charming as a python’s, glares at him icily. ‘Do you see my badge?’ she enquires. ‘Are you literate? What does it say?’

‘I don’t give a rat’s arse what it says! I…’

She reaches over and slaps him round the face with considerable force. I’m impressed. The daemon is stunned into silence. ‘I am a receptionist.’ She points again. ‘See? Re-cep-tion-ist.’ She enunciates each syllable as if the daemon in front of her is stupid. Which he probably is. ‘I am not a lawyer. I am not a judge, although you can bet your soul that I’m judging you right now and finding you wanting. I cannot affect court dates. I cannot run trials.’ She leans across her desk again and the hapless daemon shrinks backwards. ‘Now get the hell out of here before I decide to stop being so nice.’

He doesn’t need telling twice. Spinning round and almost colliding with me, he hurtles off, skidding on the floor before slamming open the door so that it judders. He’s not completely cowed, however; he glances over his shoulder and throws Meg such a look of hatred that lesser mortals would flinch from. Not her. She reaches calmly under the desk as if she’s about to draw out a weapon. The daemon drops his gaze and departs abruptly.

I clap. Meg’s eyes snap to me. ‘What do you want?’

‘What? Are you going to be mean to me too? I saved your life, Margaret.’

The expression on her face is one that a sullen teenager would be proud of. ‘I don’t care.’

My eyebrows fly up. ‘You don’t care that you’re alive?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t care that you saved me. I’m not going to bend the rules just because once upon a time you hauled me out of a burning building.’

I stand my ground. ‘
This
burning building.’

She shrugs. ‘You can’t corrupt me. I’m sorry all your pointy-fanged friends are dead.’ She doesn’t look sorry at all and I like that she’s not changing her tune. She’s a woman of conviction, if nothing else. ‘But there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. If you had any sense, you’d have left London by now.’

‘I’m here for Harry D’Argneau,’ I explain.

‘He’s in court,’ she snaps. ‘It’s an important case and can’t be interrupted. It’s one of only three still going ahead today.’

I remain patient. ‘I know. I’ll wait quietly at the back of the room until he’s done.’

Her malevolence increases. She actually hates me more now for having saved her life. Then I consider the daemon who just skedaddled out of here; maybe she hates just about everyone. She’s an equal opportunities kinda person.

‘I’ll be good. Scout’s promise.’

She regards me silently before heaving a sigh as if all this is a great imposition. ‘Fine,’ she says. ‘Sign in here.’

I scribble my name, making sure it’s illegible so that it could belong to just about anyone. There’s no point in making life easy for anyone who might be tracking me. Then I bow my head respectfully and stroll off in the direction of courtroom number two.

There’s a single guard stationed outside. Without glancing at my face, he gestures at me to wait so I rock back on my heels and try to be good. After a couple of minutes, at some invisible signal, he steps aside and lets me to enter. Frankly, I think he just wants to look important. Pleased that part is over, I head inside. There are plenty of empty seats; most people are choosing to stay home this week and even the usual court tourists are absent. I sit towards the back and then I wait.

Back in my PI days, I spent a fair bit of time in courtrooms. It’s not as exciting as it sounds; usually there’s just a lot of hanging around. Plus the legalese, which I’m sure is designed to be incomprehensible, makes the proceedings seem far longer than they need to be. I have a reasonable respect for the legal system – both Agathos and human ‒ but surely they could spice things up sometimes?
A Few Good Men
this is not.

D’Argneau is at the front, head bowed as he pretends to take copious notes. The barrister for the prosecution appears equally bored. I’m not surprised; there’s a witchy witness with astonishingly frizzy hair droning on about accounts up at the front. Less than a minute in and I already want to shoot myself in the head.

The defendant seems to be a youngish daemon wearing a sharp suit. It’s difficult to tell for sure, as I can only see the back of his head. I recognise the tailoring, however; I’ve not spent years hanging around my grandfather for nothing. Whoever this character is, he has a fair bit of money. He’s wearing Savile Row’s finest but, despite his apparent wealth and his proud posture, the tips of his pointed ears are flushed red. He’s as guilty as sin.

My own ears prickle and I realise that the judge’s attention has been diverted from the proceedings. He’s noticed me sitting quietly and is gaping at me as if he’s never seen a vampire before. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, then he starts to tug at his collar and twitch. I give him a little wave in return. It does just what I hope and makes him even more uncomfortable.

‘So, as you can tell from the dividends arrived at through calculation of Mr Aaron’s assets, the taxation requirements are substantially…’

The judge coughs. ‘Let’s take a break.’

Everyone jerks in surprise. D’Argneau’s head turns, his eyes suspicious, but comprehension dawns when he catches sight of me. He immediately stands. ‘Excellent idea, Your Honour.’

The guilt-ridden Mr Aaron isn’t particularly thrilled. He tugs at D’Argneau’s sleeve. The lawyer soothes him expertly. I slip back out again.

When D’Argneau emerges, he jerks his head to the right. I nod imperceptibly and follow. For once, he’s being discreet; who knew he was capable of such a thing? I suppose it’s testament to just how dire the situation is. I run my tongue across my teeth, pausing at each fang. The feeling is strangely comforting.

D’Argneau opens a door and gestures inside but I wait for him to enter first. I want him in front of me and visible at all times. As soon as the door closes behind us, he stretches out his arms and envelops me in a hug. He squeezes tightly. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.’

I wait until he’s done and then step back. ‘I thought only important trials were running today,’ I say, to avoid hearing any more sympathy. Platitudes don’t make me feel any better.

He frowns. ‘Oh, you mean the Aaron thing?’ He waves a hand dismissively. ‘There’s not much the government takes more seriously than tax evasion.’

‘Unless,’ I say expressionlessly, ‘they’re the ones evading tax.’

He looks blank for a moment then laughs. It sounds forced. ‘Oh, they take avoiding their own tax quite seriously, too.’ He pauses. ‘Has Michael’s body been found yet?’

I tell a version of the truth. ‘No.’

D’Argneau’s lips tighten; I can almost imagine he cares. I examine him more closely. There are heavy shadows under his eyes and his hair isn’t as perfectly coiffured as usual. He looks almost as haggard as Foxworthy. I have a sudden flash of insight. ‘You’ve lost a lot of clients, haven’t you?’

He winces. ‘Yes.’ His nose wrinkles and he balls up his fists. ‘Just as I was getting somewhere. No human lawyer had ever got so close to a Family as I did. I was earning respect and. I was gaining their trust. And now,’ he exhales heavily, ‘now all that’s gone to shit.’ He glares at me. ‘Before you castigate me for thinking only of myself and money, a lot of people at my firm are going to lose their jobs because of what’s happened.’

‘It’s early days. The Families might regroup yet.’

D’Argneau snorts. ‘You and I both know it’s too late for that.’ He lifts his chin. ‘They’re saying it’s this religious group. Tov V’ra?’

‘They were just the puppets.’

He leans towards me. ‘Then tell me. Who were the masters? Because I swear to God, Bo, I will hunt them down and…’

‘Kakos daemons.’

D’Argneau shrinks. ‘Oh.’

‘You’re going to hunt them down and what?’

He sits down heavily on the nearest chair. ‘Shit.’

I don’t pretend to be surprised by his sudden volte-face. ‘Listen, this isn’t a social call. If you want to help bring down the people who did this, I need a favour.’

His shoulders slump. ‘I didn’t think it was the Kakos daemons. They stay hidden. They stay out of things.’

If I thought that he would swing his allegiance towards them, always in pursuit of the next big thing or next quick buck, I was mistaken. Harry D’Argneau is well and truly terrified. ‘They’re not interested in you,’ I tell him.

He raises his head. ‘You don’t know that! I worked for one of the Families!’ He gets to his feet. ‘I need to leave. If I can get out of the city, out of the country, then…’

‘Harry, they got what they wanted. They wanted the Families destroyed. You’re small fry.’

There’s enough of his arrogance left for him to manage another glare. ‘No, I’m bloody not! I’m well respected! I’m…’

I hold up my hand. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. ‘You know what I mean. If they wanted you dead, you already would be.’

He’s only slightly comforted. ‘I should still leave. Maybe I could come back in a few years when things have quietened down.’

I shrug. ‘If you want to leave, then leave. You can still do me that favour from abroad.’

He shakes his head violently. ‘I’m not going near any Kakos daemons. I’m just not.’

‘You don’t have to. I only need some information.’

‘No! Didn’t you hear me? I’m not touching them!’

I gaze up to the heavens. There’s an odd damp spot on the ceiling in the shape of Italy. Huh. ‘I’m not asking you to.’

‘It’s alright for you,’ he complains. ‘You’ve already killed one. They’re probably terrified of you. That’s why you’re still alive.’

‘I didn’t kill one.’ It seems like I’ll be repeating this story for a bloody long time.