“Sir?” he asked.
“We’re not quite finished,” said Baldwin. “One more time around the Common, please.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Gee, Gordon, I thought we were friends.” Silence. Not even a no, madamin reply. Gordon had just lost his spot on my Christmas card list.
Baldwin looked out the window at Boston Common. So did I. The park looked lifeless; skeletal trees reached bare branches toward an empty sky. Benches sat vacant. A few people hurried through, their collars pulled up, rushing toward some warmer, more hospitable place. Like spooked-out norms passing through a cemetery at midnight.
As we turned the corner onto Park Street, Baldwin spoke. “If I’m understanding you correctly, a Hellion has somehow entered Boston. It would seem important to locate the sorcerer who summoned it, yes?” He waited for me to answer, but I didn’t reply. “You said a Hellion will look for ways to escape its master’s control. How does it do that?”
I kept looking out the window. As far as I was concerned, the interview was over. Baldwin had crossed the line by asking about my father, and we could circle the Common the whole goddamn day before I’d say another word. So I’d miss another meeting with Daniel. Given the way I was feeling about him at the moment, I didn’t really care. Anyway, I knew that Baldwin had plenty of demands on his time. At some point, he’d have to be somewhere else: a Rotary Club lunch or a TV interview or his campaign headquarters.
Baldwin tried coaxing. He tried appealing to my expertise. He got Frank to threaten to fire me again. I didn’t respond, not even to remind them both that Frank couldn’t fire me. I just watched the damp gray Common go by. We circled three more times. Finally, with a curse, Baldwin told Gordon to pull over. We were on Beacon Street, so I’d have to jog across the Common and down Tremont to make my appointment, but at least I’d be out of that car. I got out, slamming the door. I’d rather be crossing the gloomy Common, adding a little life to the place, than cooped up in a limo with those two humans.
21
BY THE TIME I REACHED THE PRECINCT, I WAS BREATHLESS but only a couple of minutes late. I was signing in with the receptionist when a passing detective overheard us. “You’re meeting with Costello?” she said. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”
We went through double doors, up some stairs, and down a hallway to a door labeled Homicide. She opened the door and walked in. I followed her into a room crowded with desks. The detectives, all men except for the one who’d brought me here, were already in their shirtsleeves, pecking at computers or talking on the phone.
“There he is.” She pointed. “Over there.”
He sat with his back to me, but I recognized his curly blond hair. Half sitting on his desk, facing my way, was a woman. Her raven black hair flowed past her shoulders, and she wore a tight black skirt with knee-high boots and a clingy red sweater that showed off her curves. She laughed, white teeth gleaming against red lips, then leaned over to say something to Daniel. Well, how nice and cozy. This had to be the woman who’d answered the phone this morning. Today must be Bring Your Bimbo to Work Day.
I strode over to Daniel’s desk. “Hello, Detective. Sorry I’m late.”
He looked up at me and beamed, his smile like the sun rising over a dark hill. He stood and said, “Perfect timing. Let me take your jacket.”
“That’s okay. Our meeting isn’t going to take long, is it?” I said it half in the direction of Ms. Desk Ornament, emphasizing our meeting, hoping she’d take the hint and leave.
Daniel’s smile dimmed a few watts. “No, not too long, I guess.”
The woman wasn’t leaving. In fact, she was looking at me with a smile that rivaled Daniel’s in candlepower. There we were, one big, happy family, having a grinfest around Daniel’s desk. In another minute, we’d burst into song.
Daniel spoke. “Vicky, I’d like you to meet”—Here it comes, I thought, wondering whether he’d say wife or girlfriend—“Roxana Jade. She’s the leader of the Witches of the Shield.”
I blinked. One of the witches. Not Daniel’s wife. Or his girlfriend. More relief than I’d care to admit washed over me. But only for a second. After all, somebody had answered his phone this morning.
Roxana pushed away from the desk and leaned toward me, her hand extended. “Victory Vaughn. Wow, I can’t believe it. I’ve always wanted to meet you.”
I shook her hand. “Um, you have?”
“Are you kidding? Your demon-fighting skills are legendary in my coven. I mean, it’s one thing to create a charm that repels demons, but you exterminate them.” She shook her head, pursing her lips. “You actually killthe buggers.”
I shrugged, feeling a little too aw, shucks and not knowing what to say. I’d been all prepared to hate this woman and here she was, my biggest fan.
Daniel rolled a chair over from another detective’s desk. “Why don’t you both sit down? Vicky, Roxana can bring you up to speed on what she told me yesterday.”
As we sat, Roxana was still gushing. “I told Daniel to call me the minute you got in touch. Day or night, I didn’t care. When he called this morning, I was so thrilled. I look a mess, I know, but I had to rush over here right away. I wouldn’t miss meeting you for anything.”
If Roxana was a mess now, with her straight, gleaming hair and perfect makeup, I hated to think what I must look like. I hadn’t even glanced in a mirror since last night’s shower. I touched my own hair, fluffing it, then made myself stop.
“. . . and then, when I saw you on the news yesterday, I was bowled over. You were so brave!” She finally paused for breath, gazing at me like I was a rock star.
“Just another night in the Zone,” I said, and she laughed like I’d said something witty.
Daniel watched her laugh with the expression of someone witnessing a miracle. Maybe he was one of those guys who flirted with anything female, no matter who he had waiting at home. He caught me scowling at him, and we both looked away.
I turned to Roxana. “I don’t know much about witchcraft. All I know is what I saw on PNN after the plague, that you put up a shield to keep Hellions out of the city.”
“Yes, because large-scale destruction attracts Hellions in droves.” She put a hand over her mouth, blushing. “But of course you know that.”
“They’d say legions. Instead of droves, I mean. That’s what Hellions call themselves when they group together in an army.” She nodded, and I went on. “What I don’t know about is the shield. When it was created, I assumed—everyone assumed—that Boston was protected, a Hellion-free zone. So what happened?”
“Well, the shield is just a charm. A big one, woven from the magic of the best witches in the city, but still a charm. And charms grow old and fade. They need to be renewed. So we chose representatives from each of the local covens to maintain the shield. That’s us, the Witches of the Shield. We meet every year on October 30, the night before the spirits pass through the veil, to renew the charms that support the shield.”
I thought about explaining to her that “spirits,” meaning monsters and demons, don’t give a rat’s ass about Halloween, but she looked like one of those humans who’d be disappointed by the news. Besides, we needed to focus on what had happened to the shield.
“So you’re saying that the shield was weak, and somebody was able to punch a hole in it.”
“The shield is never weak; we don’t let that happen. We fortify it with Blood of an Evil Man.”