Page 76 of Saint of the Shadows

“Detective Quinlan,” Tobias said. Although the lights had turned all the faces into magenta-lined shadows, Marisol swore Tobias’s eyes reflected a hint of blue.

Once Tobias showed he wasn’t an easy meal, Izzy raised his lips to his nose. His thin mustache bristled under the tip. “Sounds simple enough, but the Bloodsucker punched a hole through Santino’s chest. How do you stop that?”

Marisol leaned in, echoing Tobias’s stance. “We took out something similar using a hefty amount of tranquilizer.”

Izzy licked his lips. “I suppose as a nurse you keep the good stuff on hand?”

“I’m clean out.” Another shitty idea—manipulating the hospital records to obtain tranquilizing drugs—gurgled into her mind like some kind of swamp creature.

Tobias jut out his chin. “What about your heroin?”

Izzy shifted his gaze to Tiny and then to the floor. “My heroin? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not a narc, Iz. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about your drugs as long as you’re not leaving around stone-cold whodunnits.”

Too many bad ideas—drugs and murder—curdled Marisol’s insides. She swallowed back the tang of bile.

Izzy looked up. “How much would we need?”

Marisol wiped her clammy hands on her thighs and murmured, “For the Bloodsucker? Enough to flatten out ten people.”

Izzy nodded. “And his lackeys? Light ‘em up?”

Tiny’s enforcers beamed with boyish glee at the suggestion.

Marisol sprang to her feet. “No guns. No killing.” A chorus of, “They’re armed!” and “You lost your damn mind!” met her from both sides of the table.

She silenced them with a slap of her hand in the center of the table. “No one here wants a gang war. There’d be blood in the streets.”

Tobias leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. Purple shadows cast a pall over his face. “What do we do then? Buy them all a Coke?”

If Vincent’s motorcycle was any sign, she might have an insider’s access to his basement. “Give me an hour. If I don’t have the supplies to take themout non-lethally, we can discuss another plan.” Marisol stiffened as Izzy and Tobias shared glances. They were different predators, a shark and a grizzly bear, but predators all the same. And out for blood.

“You’re on.” Izzy eased back into the booth. Marisol wiped her hand on the shoulder of her jacket and held it out. Izzy shook it. “Aren’t you glad you’re in my pocket?”

Whether she was glad wasn’t the issue. In Izzy’s pocket, Caz had become a murderer whose fury was for sale, but her fury was righteous. If the city’s gutters ran deep with blood, it would be for Vincent.

It would be for love.

Interlude

i hAD sENSED yOU aMONG THE sHADOWS OF THE rAMSHACKLE sLAUGHTERHOUSE. i cOULDN’T hEAR yOU OR sEE yOU, BUT i fELT yOU wITH THE pRICKLING hAIR AT THE bACK OF mY nECK.

wHAT dO yOU dO wHEN dESTINIES cOLLIDE? wHY, sTRIKE IT tHROUGH THE hEART wITH cUPID’S aRROW. i kNOW, i kNOW. IT wAS A rOD OF rEBAR iNSTEAD. IT sHOULD kILL yOU THE wAY bULLETS sHOULD kILL mE, BUT IT dIDN’T. iNSTEAD, IT bROUGHT yOU TO yOUR kNEES. yOU gASPED, mY lITTLE gUPPY oUT OF wATER. AND pULLED oUT mY aRROW FROM yOUR cHEST TO dENY oUR cONNECTION. lUCKILY, i hAD A wHOLE qUIVERFULL, AND i dIDN’T sTOP uNTIL yOU wERE mINE. i pLUNGED aNOTHER rEBAR tHROUGH THE hEART AND hAD mORE FOR yOUR lIMBS. yOU wRIGGLED AND bLED, yET IT sURPRISED mE TO fEEL dISAPPOINTED. yOU dISAPPOINT mE.

i sUPPOSE iF wE oPERATE BY THE oLD rULES, yOU’D bEST mE THE wAY yOU sTOPPED tHOSE mORONS-fOR-hIRE wHO sNATCHED vARIAN, BUT iT’S A nEW wORLD nOW. wE oPERATE BY mY rULES.

yOU aRE lIKE mE. i aM lIKE yOU. yOU sHOULD bE mY wHITE wHALE, BUT yOU’RE nOTHING BUT A wORM ON A hOOK. i aSKED, “WHAT aRE yOU? dID tHAT dOCTOR mAKE yOU lIKE sHE mADE mE?” aWAITING yOUR aNSWER, fRAGMENTS OF rUMORS fELL iNTO pLACE—SECRET sIDE pROJECTS AND sUPER cOPS. “ARE yOU THE sUPER cOP?” nO aNSWER. aLL yOU hAD FOR mE wAS sWEAT AND gRUNTS.

i pULLED aWAY yOUR mASK. AT fIRST, bEAUTY, THE sAME pAIN AND aLLURE mASTERS cAPTURED IN pAINTINGS. oNCE mY aWE fADED, i sAW yOU FOR wHO yOU tRULY wErE—VINCENT vARIAN. mAKES sENSE bECAUSE tHAT sIMPLETON nEEDS TO mOONLIGHT AS sOME bADDIE TO cREATE mEANING oUT OF hIS sTUPID lIFE. “ARE yOU A pART OF A gOVERNMENT pROGRAM? wILL THE pOLICE bE lOOKING FOR yOU?” aGAIN, yOUR fACE wAS sTONE.

i sHOULD kNOW bETTER. iT’S nOT “WHO iS lOOKING FOR yOU?” BUT “WILL aNYONE lOOK FOR yOU?” wILL aNYONE IN tHIS tOWN mISS vINCENT vARIAN, A sELF-eNTITLED sNOB wHO’S A sHUT-iN IN hIS dADDY’S mANSION OR wHO gALLIVANTS aROUND THE wORLD wITH lIKE-aND-sHARE-aDDICTED mODELS? wHEN vINCENT vARIAN gOES mISSING, dOES IT sURPRISE aNYONE? wILL tHOSE mODELS sHED A tEAR FOR yOU iF yOU dROPPED oFF THE fACE OF THE eARTH? tHOSE sHINING eYES wENT dULL wHEN i aSKED yOU tHAT qUESTION.

hOW fLIMSY OF A lEGACY TO hAVE. IT wILL bE fUN TO wATCH IT aLL cRUMBLE bENEATH yOU.

24

Puke And Rally

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