The voice of Lazarus Gray was lost in the rising din. The gangsters were now engaged in a quickly spreading battle with Morgan and Samantha, while Sporrenberg was trying to defend himself from a group of men who were angry over their lost drinks.
Eun cursed under his breath and jumped onto the back of one of the men who was threatening Samantha. He jammed a hard chop onto the man’s neck and then sprang out of the way as the big man hit the ground, every nerve in his body rendered helpless by the expertly placed blow.
The slender Samantha Grace was nearly Eun’s equal in martial arts and the winsome beauty had dispatched two men twice her size already.
Morgan, meanwhile, favored the old-fashioned style of brawling: he was trading punches with “Lucky” Fontoon before finally doing the criminal in with an uppercut.
Inside the club, at least, it looked like things were going roughly according to plan. Eun just hoped that Lazarus and Abby were capable of handling things outside.
Within seconds of Eun’s warning, the nightclub door exploded outward. Diana Crumb wasn’t alone in trying to beat a hasty retreat from the scene, as nearly a dozen others were following in her wake. Most of the people here were either wanted for some offense or another, or simply worried that their presence would be revealed to loved ones or coworkers.
Abby Cross stood across the street, dressed in a blue skirt and white blouse. Her high heels were spread wide apart and she lowered her head, whispering words taught to her by her momma years before. The young witch had been raised in a Druidic household before going out on her own and she was the mistress of forces both great and terrifying. “Ontros omegan filligri! Amanturi sleepum, envelopum!” she hissed, her normally feminine voice lowering with every syllable. As she said the final word, she sounded almost animalistic, reflecting the dark powers she was summoning.
A dark gray cloud rose up around her feet, spreading out in long tendrils to envelop the crowd emerging from the nightclub. Immediately all who felt its chilly embrace began coughing and stumbling to their knees. The entire group, save for Crumb, were soon lying on the streets. It was a powerful narcotic spell and it took a lot out of her, leaving her very weak. Originally, she’d offered to unleash the spell within the confines of the club but magic was always an uncertain thing: one small mistake in the casting and the spell could have proved fatal to those caught in its grip.
Crumb saw the cloud at her heels but pressed on, kicking off her shoes so that she could run faster. She cursed herself for having worn such a figure-hugging dress. It restricted her movements so much that she felt like she was moving through molasses.
And then, suddenly right in front of her, was Lazarus Gray. He wore a vest and tie over a white shirt, khaki slacks and black shoes that were so polished they seemed to gleam in the moonlight. His brown hair was laced with so much silver that it made him appear older than he truly was. But it was his face, with its almost emotionless expression and the mismatched eyes that made her stop in her tracks. One of his eyes was a glittering emerald, the other a dull brown. Both were fixed upon her and when he spoke, she was found herself unable to look away from.
“Miss Crumb, you were given the opportunity to help us in an investigation. From your actions, I assume you’ve made the mistake of turning it down.”
Crumb swallowed hard. “What’s all this to you?” she asked. “I thought you only got involved when somebody hired you.”
“That’s not always the case but in this one, it is. David McIness’s former wife hired us. She rightfully fears for her life.”
“And why are you arresting my friends?”
Something akin to amusement flashed so quickly over Gray’s face that Crumb wasn’t sure if it had truly been there at all. “They’re just a bonus.”
Crumb regain control of her senses to the point where she realized the danger she was in. She drew back her fist, intending to take out Lazarus the way she had Sporrenberg, but Assistance Unlimited’s leader caught her punch in midair. He applied just enough pressure to make her gasp in pain, slowly driving her to her knees.
“I’ll ask you just once, Miss Crumb. Where is McIness?”
Barely able to speak through the pain, Crumb managed to whisper, “He was staying at the Harbor Inn. Room 13. Please… let me go.”
Lazarus released his grip on her hand but he knelt down and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him once more. “If I were half as evil as you are, you wouldn’t be going to prison. Do you understand? I’d leave you in the gutter the way you did your victims.”
“Prison doesn’t scare me,” she replied, still possessing enough bravado to put up a strong front. “You know how it works in Sovereign — the jailhouse door is a revolving one. All it takes is me greasing the palm of the right person and I’m a free girl.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t hope for that. Because I’ll be watching you. And the moment you’re out on the streets again, I’ll send her after you.”
Crumb looked over at Abby, who was now drifting through the fallen club goers. She looked thin and pale but there was still smoke drifting around her hands and waist. “What is she?”
“She’s a witch. Remember how I said that I wouldn’t kill you?”
“Yes….”
“I never said anything about her.”
As if on cue, Abby glanced up, her eyes filled with black. They looked like two pools of ink, with only the barest light held within.
Crumb screamed.
Chapter II
Room 13
Morgan Watts flanked Lazarus Gray as they approached room 13. The former confidence man still had a hitch in his step from his injuries incurred in England though he tried hard to hide any signs of discomfort. As the oldest member of Assistance Unlimited, Morgan was constantly trying to prove himself the equal of his counterparts. But if things didn’t improve, he was going to have to take Doctor Hancock’s advice: accept more deskwork and go out into the field less.
Lazarus stopped just short of the door and looked both ways in the narrow hallway. He’d convinced the hotel’s owners to secretly evacuate the building over the past half hour, calling each room one by one and inviting all parties to come down to the lobby.
“Are you all right?” Lazarus asked, staring hard at Morgan’s wan expression.
“Fine,” Morgan replied but upon seeing the steady gaze of his employer, he relented and admitted, “I’m just a bit winded, Chief. Takes me awhile to get my breath back, that’s all.”
“We only went up one flight of stairs.”
“I know.”
Lazarus nodded, looking back to the numerals posted on the door. “I’m not going to press you, Morgan. You know your body better than I do. But if the choice comes down between your long-term health and your pride, I hope you choose wisely.”
Before Morgan could respond, Lazarus gave several raps on the door. There was no answer and Lazarus stepped back and delivered a powerful kick that knocked the door right off its hinges. He strode inside, fists clenched, while Morgan followed at his heels, pistol in hand.
What they discovered was enough to give both men pause. The room was illuminated by a single candle, which was set in the center of the floor. It was nearly burnt out and thick piles of melted wax surrounded it. On the walls were scrawled dozens of words, written in what appeared to be either red paint or blood.