“Listen. I want you to break away into the crowd and turn down this street. Get back to the main street,” I said.
“I can’t do that,” Jana replied. She picked up her pace as I did. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“Really. I insist.” This was my world, not hers. Not really. She might’ve worked on the fringes, but she wasn’t deep in its guts. “Go.”
In the small reflection, I saw the other Nacari’s eyes focus on me as he unzipped the front of his jacket. I had no weapons, but if I was able to concentrate, I could now hopefully work some kind of magic and get away. When we reached the stairs leading down to the street, I felt her hesitate and gave her a pointed little shove with my elbow. “Go!”
Jana stumbled briefly, her expression angry and brittle, but then tensely stalked off across the boardwalk, heels clacking on the wood. But she was not fast enough to get out of harm’s way. No one was, as I turned just in time to see him pull a pistol, level it with the one-handed expertise of a talented marksman, and fire.
I threw up my hands and focused everything I had into averting the bullet. I expected a bang and a flash, maybe a zing. Instead, the pistol made a strange, mushy sound, like it were being fired underwater—and then the wind sucked in towards Nacari Senior with an invisible wave of weirdness that curdled the air and contorted the light around him. I saw Jana frozen out of the corner of my eye, her expression one of horror as the space around the pistol cracked into dark lines that then exploded, shattering into… insects.
For a moment, I was confused, unsure if I’d done something or not. But I knew that sound: it was the same as the human-faced insects in my dream.
“Run!” I barked aloud, not at anyone in particular, and staggered off at a limp towards Jana. “Run!”
She startled, her trance broken, her face a mask of fear, and I caught her arm as we fled down the boardwalk from the gathering cloud and the gathering screams. One male scream was louder than them all. As we ran, I turned to see the iron cloud wrapped around the hit man like a cyclone. He flailed at them, the gun fallen at his feet, as they ripped his clothes and began to strip the flesh off his face and hands. Other people were screaming and running or staring as he staggered back, flailing, and then fell to his knees.
“Oh my god,” Jana said. Her eyeliner was running a little. “Oh my god. What was that?”
“A very poor attempt at summoning,” I said, breathlessly, and turned back for the stairs down to the street. “I think. Come on.”
I turned at the railing. My would-be assassin was drowned in the crowd of panicking people, but the smell blew back to us: rotten meat and sugar. The elms that faced the ocean, growing in their stands near the end of the sidewalk, turned partly brown as the fetid wind passed over them and dissipated.
“You should get back,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Back to the office.”
“I—” she started.
“Please understand. This is between me and my people.” I cut her off, shaking my head. “Your advice was invaluable. But it’s all you need to give.”
“And what about dinner?” The farther away we got from the chaos of the beach, the calmer she sounded. We were both used to working under stress, in our own ways, and her lips quirked in a predatory little smile.
“I don’t date,” I replied. “But I’ll have dinner with you, assuming the Manellis continue to be this inept.”
“Thursday,” she said. “Seven, at Tatiana.”
“I’ll make a booking for two,” I replied.
Her heart-shaped face flushed with something I wasn’t wholly certain how to read. I didn’t know her well enough, and strangers’ faces take some getting used to.
I knew my body could not keep up without sleep by the time I got to my apartment. I stripped and showered with painful deliberation and ate my lukewarm food without appetite in the ringing silence of the kitchen. It was hot inside, the windows open to air out the rotten smell left by the demon. The place felt impure, unclean. Everything was broken and out of order. Vassily was not home, again. No one to quip with, no way to relieve stress. I was too tired for the gym.
“Well, Binah. It’s not every day you see someone try and fail a mass shooting on the boardwalk,” I said to the cat, watching her lick out the last bit of salad from the takeout dish. “Some days. But not every day.”
She ignored me until she’d finished and then looked up at me with her eerie, pale eyes, licking her chops. With great studiousness, she began to groom her paw and face.
“Indeed,” I said and sighed, to nothing in particular.
I had rarely been so grateful to see my bed, to climb in under the sheets with the cat. My mind should have been racing on what Jana had told me—but it was the opposite. It was black, empty, numb. I did not hear Kutkha’s voice. No magical inspiration, déjà vu, good ideas. And I still couldn’t remember what I was supposed to be doing tonight.
There were no nightmares this time: there was nothing, a balmy hum of sleep that was abruptly disturbed by an explosion of light and, then, a familiar, overly cheerful, still slightly raspy voice. “Yoo-hoo! Wakey wakey, rise from your gwavey.”
“Uh? Vassily?” I slurred, covering my throbbing eyes. “Please just… let me sleep.”
“Hey, don’t give me that shit. You were the one that wanted to come along tonight.” He threw something at me, and it landed heavily on my chest and sent the cat scattering. “What the fuck happened to the house today? Did we get robbed?”
“No. Long story.” Groggily, I leaned up and peered down. He’d thrown me a shoulder holster. “What did I want to come… go to?”
“We’re doing the laundry, remember? Nic’s money?”
Oh, no. The casino. Atlantic City. The Laguettas. I was on bodyguard duty. GOD help me.
“So I cleaned the place up while you were getting your beauty sleep, and I got us a room at the Taj Mahal, just you and me.” Vassily was half-dressed, throwing on a shirt to what looked like a new and fashionable suit. I caught a glimpse of the long, muscular line of his back before it was hidden from view and frowned, sitting up to rub my face.
“What time is it?”
“Nearly seven. What’s up, Lexi? You don’t look so great.”
“I need… call,” I blurted. “Crina. She should come.”
“Oh.” Vassily turned, but I saw him frown. “Well, I booked the room for two, but I guess you can get another if you want to shack up with your girl tonight.”
“No, she can stay.” I realized immediately that I hadn’t thought that through. “I mean, yes, she can stay with me. Properly, in another room. Girlfriend.”
He looked less pleased than I expected. “She better get her ass moving. We have to go in about forty-five minutes. Mikhail’ll be here with a car.”
“Forty-five. How late is this going to go?”
“Three or four or five a.m.” Vassily laced his belt up around his shirt, smoothing it down over his belly. “I dunno if this is really the sort of gig for your girlfriend to come, Lexi. Crina might get a little familiar with the business, you know what I mean?”
“She’s fine.” I slid out of bed and tested my leg. It was still bruised, but I could walk. I didn’t want to, but I could walk. “And you were right. Lev’s trying to have me killed.”
“Make sure you pack—what?” He turned, scowling, halfway through clipping on his tie. We could both tie real ties, but when you worked this business, you didn’t wear them. You didn’t want to wear anything that anyone could grab and choke you with, if a night turned to shit. “What?”
“You heard me. I think you’re right. This job is bad news, and Lev is part of it.”
“Holy shit,” Vassily said. “Already? No way. You know for sure? How’d you find out?”