Jamaica Blue Magic: Chapters 9 and 10

Due to power outage and computer problems, I missed Friday's, so we'll start with two today.

-------

 

 

Chapter 9.

"Are you a witch-hunter?" Aphrodite Nicolai asked. They sat on the marble deck of her two-story beach villa overlooking the ocean. The ethereal woman was pale, with puffy eyes, and unkempt graying hair in her face. She was nothing like the vibrant, glowing being she had been the previous night. She sat on her cushioned beach chair with her legs up. "Eurydice said you were investigating the murder of my Antonio?"

"I’m an independent, Ma'am," Dylan said, nodding. It was best not to stray too far from the truth. She sure doesn't look well. Filipe managed to arrange this meeting with Antonio Nicolai’s wife—a fae, not another vampire or human. This was the only real lead they had on the mysterious murdering munchkin, at least until they found out anything new on Dobson, and Dylan also couldn't ignore the possibility that Aphrodite might also be a target.

He looked to Louis who sat down near the woman. "We want to help, ma'am," Louis said. "You loved him very much, didn’t you?"

"More than what mortals call 'love'," she answered after a moment. "I was his muse. Antonio and I did everything together. We were matches. It is …empty inside now." She shivered and removed a tissue from the box beside her. "My people bond completely to those we are close to, those we choose. Vampires are one of the few beings we cannot kill when we love them. Yesterday, I thought he would be with me for eternity."

Confused, Dylan studied the woman. He had thought most fae were blood bonded to demon-blooded vampires. Had Nicolai’s relationship been different? He pulled up a chair. "Aphrodite, I was on the beach the night your husband was killed. I'm sorry; I couldn’t reach him in time."

"And yet you didn’t say anything to the police?"

"I’m a revenant, ma'am; where I come from, they don’t take to us very well." He folded his hands and looked down. "But I can say this: I can help. I’ll find his killer for you. If you let me."

"How do I know you didn’t kill him?" She fixed him with a narrow stare that put him momentarily at a loss.

Finally, he shrugged and grinned. "If I’d killed him, why would I have come to you offering my services?"

She did not immediately answer; he noticed she was now gazing intently at Louis.

Her face became puzzled. "I feel the Mother in you. Why?"

"The mother?" Dylan had no idea what she was talking about. What was she sensing in Louis? Something that Jason and the others couldn't?

"We stand on the Mother, do we not? She is everywhere," Louis answered. Well, if you can call that evasion an answer. Nice dodging, Louis. I wonder if she’s going to let that pass.

But Louis was continuing. "Mrs. Niccoli, Dylan is giving you the straight dope. He saw a child kill your match. A fairy child, and she might be in peril as well; no child should be used as a weapon, and those who would do such a thing…"

"One of my people?" Horror washed over Aphrodite's features, and tears filled her eyes. She stood up and walked over to the rail. She wasn’t stick-thin like the idealized, attenuated fairy images Dylan was used to seeing on TV. Aphrodite had a curvy, hourglass figure, reminding him of Marilyn Monroe. "A fairy? How pure? Was she from Beyond the Veil?"

"I don’t know. I couldn't tell. She confused my Sight," Dylan said. "That’s why we’re here."

"I can’t tell you anything about my people from behind the Veil," Aphrodite said, brushing strands of hair wearily from her face. "Was she a water nymph? A selkie, or a finman? They declared war on us; most of the Earthly fae following them hearken from the sea. They follow Circe, and there is no word yet as to whether she has recruited from the Veil. The only one who could directly speak to the Veil has broken and is no longer with us."

Dylan raised a brow. "Why would the fae want to kill Antonio?"

"I have no idea." Aphrodite caught her breath and clutched the marble rail. "He was helping the fae. My husband spent most of his life speaking against forced fae and vampire contracts. I was his equal, his muse. I wasn’t even taking his blood. I chose to live a natural life." She looked back at them. "He would free fae and send them overseas. He did everything he could to ensure the proper treatment of my people, and he supported fae-run contract business that allowed the fae to choose their mates based on compatibility and symbiosis, and investigated improper treatment of them."

"Aphrodite, do you not realize that you have just given us a motive for murder?" Louis asked. "Not for the fae, no, but for the demon-bloods who bond with them."

"The demon-bloods would not kill Antonio." The conviction in her voice was absolute. Aphrodite turned and pressed her hips into the rail behind her. "His views are not uncommon among his people. Yes, there are several ancient ones who dread the fae, and like us controlled, but Antonio was working for a greater goal. He was set on a task, by the father of the demon-bloods, High Councilor Lucius Enki. The great Mother is ill, and Antonio and I were charged with the task of moving human economies toward an environmental agenda. We were to create financial markets for environmentally friendly power sources, material products, food and tourism, as well as influence eco-friendly politicians."

Lucius. He almost blanked out the rest of her words, hearing the Murray Clan highblood’s name. Both Daniel and Liam talked about him. Wasn’t he involved with Keenan Murray, Aedan, and Anna? Why would a known corporate robber baron give a damn about the environment?

Did this great Mother business have anything to do with Liam’s story about fading fae power and the lack of belief?

What did Lucius want with it? Did he want power from it? Was this linked to the Veil falling?

"Who is the Mother?"

"The Earth," Aphrodite said.

Louis nodded. "It's a belief in fae and shape-shifter society that the Earth is a living being. Not like a separate being or god, as the Greeks or the Romans had it, although some aspects of their faith might fit. The land, the actual, physical planet, is a living, breathing creature." Louis explained. "They have many different names for her, but they use the term "Mother" universally to each other."

"The planet is alive?" There were quite a few religions following similar doctrine. Religions of the type his family’s faith had always called "pagan." Dylan felt uncomfortable. Christianity had crushed several pagan faiths. Now he wondered why? If destroying the belief in a living planet threatened its existence, why do it? He thought of Dobson and wondered if it was about feeding off enmity and despair. "Ma’am, did he have a run-in with the Blackwell family?"

"The bankers?" She frowned. "Well, he was getting resistance from the Tilermans, Kaiser, Cook; they’re oil people, and the Blackwells often invested in fossil fuels. What Antonio was trying to do in the US was funnel money away from the fossil fuel industry and put it into renewable energies. He met a great deal of resistance from the older demon-blooded families who had founded their fortunes on fossil fuels, and plastics and industries dependent on them. He even got threats from other industries that relied on other natural resources like lumber, water and steel; they could see where the environmental campaign might take him."

"What about the non-American companies and industrialists?" Dylan asked, feeling a bit affronted.

"We had similar reactions in the Arab States, Asia and in Europe, but some of their people were at ground zero when Paris went, which changed a lot of things," Aphrodite answered. "It was really a selection of demon elites in the US who didn’t care that the Earth was dying. They just planned on harvesting as many souls here as they could until they found a new world to exist on."

"Crap," Dylan said, appalled. "Like a bunch of locusts? Eat one world, move to the next?"

Louis appeared perplexed with the thought. "How do they expect to leave the planet? They’re not disembodied like their ancestors. They’re half human."

"All I can tell you is it was their rumored plan; I do not know how they would execute it." Aphrodite said quietly. She wrapped her arms about herself, shaken. "And if they are using a fae child to commit these crimes, it’s a message from them. They’re meeting our challenge, and taking their own side, regardless of what it will cost."

Back again to Dobson and his people. Dylan felt a chill. Dylan and Louis exchanged glances. In theory there was a long list of possible suspects… but Dylan just knew where the investigation was going.

And now he knew the stakes were even higher than he had imagined.

 

 

Chapter 10.

"So, what was that about?" Dylan asked as he drove them back to the beach house. Louis reclined in the seat next to him, attention focused on the passing palm trees, ferns and dwarf grasses.

"What’s what about?"

"She said you were a part of the Mother?" Which meant he was fae, most likely. "It’s no problem, I have fae in me; that’s why I have the Sight. Fae blood runs in my family. After hearing what she said about Antonio, it makes sense. He freed fae and let them go hide in the States where they didn’t need to register and just blended with the humans."

When Louis didn't reply, Dylan shifted to another subject. "I had no idea you knew that much about fae."

Louis’ gaze was calm, but there was something unreadable in it. "I know more about the fae than most of the so-called Elders in the League. I’m old, remember? I know a lot of things, Dyl."

Okay, so he’s not touching the whole bit about him being fae. Maybe he didn’t want to believe it himself, which was why he avoided Liam and Doc Smith. Fae weren't acknowledged in the States, but that was better than being a controlled resource, wasn't it? Dylan sighed, wondering if it was a good time to play counselor. "Dude, I know being fae is 'don’t ask, don’t tell' in our country, but for those of us who want to hide, it isn’t a bad thing. It protects the Independent Fae Nations." To be fair, they knew more than a few fae, fae-blooded vampires, Old Bear, and the Twins among them; Louis wouldn’t necessarily be alone.

"That all depends, Dylan. What kind of culture do the fae have here? Outside of the Free Peoples who live outside of the cities, none of the fae in North America have community or a culture of their own. It’s all human or demonblood culture. You’ve been absorbed and have no unique identity. Look at yourself; you struggle every day to adapt to your own faeish senses, and often grasp at human stereotypes of Sidhe culture for identity. It’s nonexistence even for the Independent Fae Nations."

"Ok, what about the stuff you don’t remember?" he asked.

And Louis was right. Dylan was fae, yet nothing about him was distinctly fairy. It had been taken from him when his family immigrated to the United States, but since he’d never had it in the first place, he never thought he was missing anything.

His friend peered up at the stars. "Fae isn’t the right word. It doesn’t sound right, doesn't fit me. Though I know a great deal about them. I was close to the fae." He shrugged. "I do feel a closeness to the Mother, but I never realized it until she mentioned it."

"What’s it like?" Dylan was curious. If part of Louis’s memories were false, it would break to the truth eventually. They just needed to poke around his real memories and bring them out.

"Are we having a session?"

"Yes, sir." Dylan said. "Just between you and me. On the clock."

Louis nodded and continued.

"I feel a presence. Like I’m welcome, simply standing upon the Earth. It is very pleasant." He shrugged. "The twins describe a similar feeling."

"I’ve never felt it. Maybe when I was a kid, but I was too young to remember. I was also raised Pentecostal, so I missed out on the spiritual stuff. It’s all about riding the religious high, listening to people pretend they talk in tongues, and giving your money to a conman-demon." The words were out before he could catch himself.

"I sense a little hostility," Louis said. "Are you thinking about what she said about using us up and flying off to another world?"

"Hell, yeah. My mom was suckered by that demon and it cost me my family. I guess it’s still raw. Especially now, but this is about your baggage, brother, not the case." He slowed the jeep at a red light. John’s search had put Dobson and Beckmann in the same family, running the same school, so even the others had to admit that it was possible, even probable, that Dobson was Beckmann’s reincarnation. Dylan himself was sure, but they wanted some kind of proof. Dylan’s first thought was to read Beckmann’s sermons to be certain, but truth was, with what he’d seen on the Internet, many of these popular evangelicals sounded awfully alike. They could all be demons drumming up delicious antagonism. He’d never be able to tell unless he got up close and personal with them.

"You think he did it?"

"Rationally, I’d say I need more evidence. The revenant in me says ‘crew it'. She mentioned Blackwell and demons. We have enough. Now, about your memories."

"Memories of a vast existence, and when I step into the ocean, I feel a kinship and a belonging. When I am there, I know nothing will or could harm me. Have you ever felt that way?"

"Honestly?" Dylan thought about it. "When I’m in the blackest of rages, and it scares the shit out of me."

Louis nodded. "Yeah, scares the shit out of me too. Because when I feel it, I know I can stop being me at any moment."

 

***

 

The small group sat around the kitchen table while Dylan dished out the remains of curry long pig with hot peppers and scallions to Tina and John, while Louis and Paula finished their escovitched fish, carrots, wild rice, and peppers.

Henry was satisfied with a glass of blood. Louis had a glass of rum, while Dylan and the others had some blood wine. They were still waiting for Filipe’s email, and Dylan wanted to brainstorm with the others about what they had discovered.

It was better than just running off after Dobson, he reminded himself and his revenant urges, though Dylan wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold out.

"Dylan, I don't think I've had curry this good ever," Tina said looking up at him from her plate. "Hell, I didn’t know you could cook our kind of food. When did you learn?"

"The secret is searing it, not cooking the meat, and marinating it just right during the day. Worked with Jana Lyn for a while after you guys left for New Orleans. Figured it was better than getting eats from the hospital all the time, since we have two ghouls and a zombie staying at the coffeehouse now. Our ghost revenant doesn’t eat, though; it just falls through him."

"Poor baby," Paula said with sympathy in her voice. "Not being able to taste a thing. Can’t imagine that. I mean, even blood these days has flavors. Henry gets those gourmet packets from the stores now. Right, Hen?"

"Yeah, and they're not bad." Henry studied the glass. "Tonight’s flavor is type A exotic RH—"Beef with Garlic and Scallion."

"Oh, I like that one," Tina replied. "Have you tried "Hint of Chocolate" yet? It’s really good."

Dylan hadn’t tried the gourmet bloods. He was simple and just liked it plain. And of course, the thing that really tasted good to his revenant he didn't get often. "Ain’t that the shit they get from the morgues? They treat it with chemicals or something, so it won’t clot after they collect it. Waste not, want not, I guess."

Louis stuck his fork in his fish and made a face. "I don’t know, it’s always been better from the vein in my experience. Chocolate blood just doesn’t sound natural to me."

"You’re not a revenant, Lou; the industry was made for the vampire-made revenants running around," Tina said. "There are more of us than vampires, and our palates are more ghoulish than pure vamp."

"Well, you may be right about unnatural. I do get an aftertaste from time to time," Henry said, glancing at Louis. "Sort of like what you get when you wolf down a bunch of orange peeps or eat a snow cone."

Standing up, John put his plate in the sink. He glanced over at Henry’s glass of blood with a frown. "I mix cocoa into my blood all the time. Even make snow cones for the kids with it. They rock when they’re all thick and clotty." The eternal revenant teen scraped off his plate and turned on the faucet. "I should've gotten a patent on it."

"Your blood cocoa is just disgusting," Tina said, but her voice and a smile showed she was teasing. Everyone knew she drank it when she had a chocolate craving. "I looked into the process of the gourmet blood. It’s not harmful to us undead. If made in the proper conditions, it doesn't injure the mortal population and the gourmet blood isn’t bad for us. Not as good as the live stuff we get from the hospitals, but for a product used to maintain a population of undead without harming the living, it’s a damned good idea."

Shrugging, Dylan plopped in his chair. It still amazed him that he could be talking about cannibalism casually with his friends, like it was something perfectly normal and not taboo. Over the last thirty years, their little group of victims had developed their own monster culture. In fact, without the constant culls, the monster society was thriving. They lived taboo lives… in ordinary, completely mundane ways. It was absolutely mind-boggling.

"It’s small enough to do right," John replied. "But if they start to expand to a world market, try to industrialize production? Then they’ll start cutting corners and we’ll start to see glowing vampires, zombies, ghouls and revenants."

"Always a ray of sunshine, John." Paula squished some rice on her plate.

"They don’t use radiation… do they?" Henry looked confused.

"No, dear Henry, John is just being an ass," Paula answered. Next to her, Tina giggled.

"How did your meeting go, by the way?" Tina asked in an attempt to change the topic. She mixed her meat and rice and looked to both Dylan and Louis.

It was Louis who spoke. "Poor kid is broken up. Apparently, Antonio was decent for a demon-blood. There are a lot of pieces to the puzzle we’re unaware of, but Antonio was asked to finance an environmental initiative worldwide. He was also a fae rights activist."

"Which gives us a list of enemies a mile long," Dylan added. He poked at his leftover food with his fork. Sure, the stuff might come from hospital waste, but it was perfectly safe for the undead; still, he never felt quite right eating it. "However, we discovered he was trying to involve himself in the American eco-market and was butting heads with Tilghman and Blackwell."

"Apparently the demon-bloods here plan to strip the environment and move to a different world." Louis added. "Regardless of how impractical it may sound, they think they have a plan."

"Tilghman?" John turned from the sink, disgust furrowing his brow. "The family clan involved in my death? I have no fucking idea what their plan might be. Move to a different world? Our space program isn’t advanced enough, and they keep cutting federal funds to NASA."

"I don’t know if it is the exact same vamp clan who did it, but yes, related. Antonio had a list of organizations sending him hate mail. And maybe they’ll shadow-walk off this rock; hell, maybe she meant other worlds like other universes, not just planets." Dylan leaned back in his chair. He felt his fury rise just talking about the situation. The demon was out there with his mother’s soul, and the Blackwell family still lived safe behind their money and their puppet government. He had to breathe deeply, like Doctor Sacco had taught him. He needed to control the monster, not be controlled by it. "Now, I’m going to be honest here, guys; I can’t think beyond Blackwell on this. And we need to, with planet-killing demons and all."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John open the refrigerator and remove a plate of fried sugar-coated eyeballs. How in God’s name did he control his revenant? John had been tortured and tossed out into the Dakota badlands, turning him into a raving wraith. How was he so controlled now?

"I need help with this one, because you guys can think out of the rage Hulk-smash box." He looked at the faces of his friends and wished Angie was there. He missed his spiritual little brother. Since Anna had vanished, Angie had been the only one with a good chance of derailing Dylan’s revenant.

John shrugged. "We need to tackle this one thing at a time, Dyl. I never went back to hunt the devil who was involved in my murder. I can’t tell you how involved his gang is in this. But I did investigate the oil industry there. Blackwell invests in a great deal of the oil. The De Hamm, the Tilghman, BP, and a host of corporatists from the fuel industry are putting the screws to the Native Peoples to put in a pipeline and fuck our water supplies and land. Just business as usual, you know; white douchebags once more making a land grab for the sake of their own greed while the government forgets its own constitution and promises."

He leaned into the fridge door, closing it with his rear. "One of the current debates is around pipelines, uranium mining, and fracking. They strip the land they steal and are too cheap to use materials that are environmentally safe, so it poisons the water and the earth. People get sick and die all the time. But the companies deny any responsibility, and the government sides with them because genocide has always been the go-to for their little indigenous problems."

"You’re not helping with my Blackwell problem," The rancor just tightened in his gut and Dylan clenched his fists.

"My people have nothing to do with your Blackwell plot, and everything to do with five hundred years of white supremacy and imperialism. Human beings, their greed and their disdain for their own kind make them the worse monsters of all."

"Fair enough."

"Well, they aren't here," Tina said. "A demon is here. Not Blackwell."

"With the soul of my mother."

"We have no proof of that," Paula pointed out sharply. "Though there are ways of finding out. I called Dio, in New Orleans, and he’s given me a few names of sorcerers in the area. I can’t guarantee any of them would work with us. We’re monsters, after all. But it doesn’t hurt to ask around."

Tina sighed and buried her head in her hands. "Paula, how is hoodoo going to solve our problems?"

"It’s not 'hoodoo', Tina, it’s sorcery, a very different kind of mystical tradition. And as Filipe would immediately remind you, it is voudon, not voodoo or hoodoo. I know you’re not a spiritual person, but Dyl is, and I am," Paula snapped. "And you’ve been in New Orleans enough to know magic is real, so why not good people who channel the spirits through faith?"

Tina pinched her nose. "I get it, Paula, but in a court of law, it’s all about evidence. They can’t use testimony from the dead."

That was, indeed, the problem. Even in the supernatural circles, beings that left the Earthly realm—lost their bodies, in short, and became spirits—weren't treated as full citizens. Of course, to be fair, most such beings left the world entirely for the afterlife, and those that got stuck on Earth often weren't really clear on their situation—pretty crazy, actually—so it wasn't as though there wasn't reason for this attitude. Still, it made it difficult for people like Sam to testify, and testimony from spirits who couldn't even show up in court was right out.

"All right, well, I’m not a court of law, and I use my own Jedi mind powers." Dylan used Angelus’ favorite word for mental or psionic abilities. "So, we do know Dobson and Beckmann are connected. We can’t say for sure that they are the same demon, nor can we say for sure that they’re working with Blackwell."

It was hard for him to say all that, but he tried to let his mind just focus on Dobson: Dobson and his mother.

"He was not mentioned by Aphrodite," Louis said. "However, she did mention that the demon-blood elites had no interest in the plan to save the Mother."

"What in hell is that?" Henry asked, draining his glass.

"My sire mentioned her," John said. "He’s really old, but he never talks about it. He likes playing the mysterious, scary old Elder. Told me the Father and the Mother exist. He also told me the gods are real, and many of the mythologies we recall touch on the truth, and reflect the people’s understanding through the cultures they live in. This is why the story always changes. People are always migrating, so the stories migrate with them, and change over time. He told me that by believing in our ancestors, they live on and can help us, and some become gods." John shrugged. "Cryptic, but what do you expect from a sixty-thousand-year-old Elder?"

Looking at his glass of rum, Louis ran his finger along its rim. "Not the whole truth… but a part of it."

"Another memory?" Dylan glanced at him, hopeful.

"Just a feeling. If you think about it, many of the pagan faiths tend to focus on honoring the ancestors and nature spirits or gods. Later monotheistic religions often went out of their way to destroy them," Louis said. "I do not think it was just because of the fae, as some claim it to be."

"Fae Wars, yeah I learned about that in school." Dylan said. Well, the school I went to after I became a revenant, anyway. "Basically, the witch hunts and destruction of pagan religions was to take away belief in pagan gods and thus weaken them. That way they were vulnerable to witch hunters."

"There is something else we're missing, but I can’t put my finger on it." Louis held his glass to the light. Eventually, he shook his head, and took a sip of the rum. "Doesn't matter, but in any event, all of those things had a consequence. It hurt the Mother, this ancestor goddess, and Antonio was charged with creating a financial reform that encouraged eco-friendly industry. The demons had no interest in this."

"Nope, they just used the idea of global warming and the chaos it’s causing to gather their flock, feed on the souls and cash in on the chaos it’s causing around them. It’s win, win. They fill their hells, and they live the highlife until the end, then move on to the next planet of suckers." Dylan informed. "And USA is filled with the buggers."

"Hey, wasn’t Ms. December of Ghoulie Girls a demon?" Henry asked. "She was like a florist or something, works funerals. Loves her job. Thought she was very sweet, actually."

"Species profiling puts you in a bad place, Dyl." John warned. "Just because they feed off negative energy, like anger, frustration, grief, aggressive sex, doesn't mean they’re all evil. It was one of the things my old one spoke of. Think of Yin and Yang. We had one kid, Billy, come into our center who was a demon; he dealt with his aggression by playing World of Warcraft, and was following the path of peace. It’s very possible for demons, even if it is a challenge."

Dylan held up his hand. He thought of Alice and her sweet, sensitive nature, and how she was always there for them if they needed help at the café, regardless of how busy she was at the theater. "I know. It doesn’t mean the loud, bad ones aren’t causing a trouble for others, especially for other demons like Alice and Billy."

No one could argue that. There was a problem, and dealing with the bad ones was difficult, because they had money and political ties. "Ok, well, we have one here that runs a school, and a dead environmentalist who was trying to involve himself with the American clean energy market. So, what do we do next? Are there any other demons here who’d target Antonio? Are there fae who’d want to kill him? We're at war, right?"

"If the fae killed him, he’d be a martyr to the captive fae," Louis explained. "The more I think about it, the more I think the demons are making a rallying call and a statement to their enemies. In the past, they stood alone. Remember, they were hunted by the United Religious Orders until 1742, when the League was formed."

John shrugged and sat with his chair facing backwards. He crossed his arms over the back. "Some myths have demons fighting alone against the gods, men, and the good spirits. The good beings would often tag-team. Other myths have demons working with other evil spirits and men. What flavor of demon shit have we stepped in?"

"Exactly, and in mythology, the gods and men don’t always have peaceful relations either. There have always been wars between humans and spirit-kind. So, why not demons making their own declaration of war to the vampires?" Louis asked. "Vampires who, in their eyes, are really upstart humans who don’t deserve immortality."

"A specific group of League vampires," Dylan added. "Makes sense."

This might be the start of Liam’s war. He wondered how long humanity would go without noticing it.

"Did you ask who Niccoli was here to meet?" John asked. He offered the plate of eyeballs to Tina, who took one.

"Yeah, we got a list of Americans—Magistrate hopefuls, actually. He was also here for a conference on the Great Garbage Patch. Aphrodite also mentioned something about the preservation of sea turtles. They both shared a love for the turtles in particular," Dylan answered.

"That means we also have a list of potential new victims," Tina pointed out. "Until we have an idea of who this winged girl is, we should set watches on these people to make sure they’re safe."

"How in hell are we going to do that?" Paula asked, eyes wide. "Last time I looked, none of us could clone themselves. Not even John, with his wicked teleport shadow-walk powers!"

"We’ll just have to talk to them and narrow down who’d be the best target. Do a little profiling." Dylan glanced over to John and Tina. "But my money’s on the politicians."

 

***

 

Rain drizzled down on the blacktop parking lot as Dylan huddled under the awning of the Hi-Lo supermarket. Shifting, he held his cell phone tighter to his ear in an attempt to lessen the crackling as Filipe spoke on the other end. In the background, he heard Angelus’ voice and deduced they were working the basement center that night.

"The girls are fine. Nothing has changed. They have an excellent lawyer, Sally Apess," Filipe said in his smooth baritone. "So relax, Magistrate Vasquez wants to give them a fair trial. Old Bear is here, and even the Celt is paying attention. Everything is peachy! Right, Angie?"

"Saw Jaivan last night! He’s reading my comic collection!" Angie called out from the background. "And Qui and I have everything in the bag! Enjoy yourself, stay out of trouble!"

Filipe had used the words "just peachy." Dylan winced. That was Dylan’s favorite expression for when things weren’t completely under his control and he was hanging on by a thread. "Are you guys sure you don’t want Louis and me to come back?"

"He wants to know if he and Louis should come back?" Filipe said.

"Tell him Qui and I will kick their asses back to Jamaica if they come back!" snapped Angelus. "We can handle this!"

"Words from the night-shift boss, dude. We can handle it. And from me, books look good, in fact, better than ever, organized, too. I think we’ll survive. Just chill, the girls have their dad here. They’ll be fine. We are fine. Now, about that murder you were asking me about? There is one other registered demon on the island. He’s from Chicago, and he’s an investor, his name is Chester Bond, he’s staying with his wife, Buffy, at the GoldenEye Resort. They have two kids at home who go to private schools, and he pulls in a nice five hundred forty-three K a year. I’m poking through his portfolio; I’ll email the details."

"Anything on the politicians we’re supposed to meet up with?" Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"David Leo is a ghoul who wants to make L.A. a free city, like New York. He’s with the Paranormal Freedom Movement, but I think the big thing here is he’s interested in getting big money out of paranormal politics. He’s also interested in working more closely with the EuroLeague for the stabilization of the paranormal community."

The SoHo community had started the Paranormal Freedom Movement. They were spreading, it seemed, and in a bigger way than Dylan had realized, if there was a serious move on to make Los Angeles a free city. But there’d be big money on both sides of that movement, and where there was big money, there was big politics—and big danger.

"What about the other two?"

"Rhonda Scully, she’s a zombie from Wisconsin, and Homer Evans is a revenant from Florida. They’re in Kingston, and they’re PFM as well. They’re looking for donations, and Niccoli donates… donated to a special interest group in the US that promotes politicians who want to negotiate with the EuroLeague. That’d put them all in the same general boat, my friend."

Maybe the entire case had nothing to do with the Fae War or conservation at all. Dylan watched two women race under the awning from their car and dart into the Hi-Lo. Maybe the murder was all about territory. Perhaps it was an attack on the PFM. Those in power in the American League resented the Paranormal Freedom Movement. It was an embarrassment or a threat. Another possibility was that the American League was defending its territory from the Europeans—a roundabout re-statement of the Monroe Doctrine. Would they go so far as to kill a popular European Elder to reduce the number of politicians eager to introduce European policies to the American League?

The more he thought about it, the more it fit. He brushed his hair from his face with a frown. "Fucknuts, this is a territory battle."

"Hey, this is not my case, grave-brother. I can’t say." For a moment, Filipe’s voice was uncharacteristically serious. "Look, I’m going to give you some advice, ok? Have fun. Try not to get too involved in this demon stuff. Hand it to the authorities." His voice lightened again. "Tell Louis I hear the waves will be good tonight!"

"Sure." Filipe knew he was in over his head. He—and everyone else at the Center—also wanted them to take a vacation. But if it was a territory fight, there was no way he could let it go. It made too much sense now. The Blackwells had to be involved. Dobson was there because of them. He was fighting to keep their territory free from European influence. They had lost New York to Liam and the faebloods. Now they were battling for three other cities, with Los Angeles the biggest prize of all. Dylan kicked the concrete sidewalk with the tip of his sneaker and decided to let Filipe’s change of subject stand. "Hear about any good bands? Louis likes Reggae bands."

"I hear Brick Lace can raise the dead and stake them in their coffins. Check them out, I think all of you will like them! They are sweet on the eyes and the ears!"

"Thanks, Fil. For everything."

"You too, and remember what I said. Have fun!"

"Sure, bye." He hung up the line before his friend could question the enthusiasm—or lack thereof—in his voice and shoved his crappy phone in his pocket.

There was definitely no going home now. He was already neck-deep in this case. Hand it to the authorities, my ass. Then he thought of the only other demon registered on the island and chuckled. "Mr. Bond, staying at the GoldenEye Resort? Jesus, how does the guy take himself seriously?"