Page 32 of The Devil You Know
Dad has Mom, Jim, and the church he loved more than his oldest son. Let them care for him. He’d rather spit in my eye than have me come to say goodbye.
His phone rang again, and this time he recognized Joe Mack’s number. “What did you find out?”
“Meet me at the speakeasy below the Hathaway Theater,” Joe replied, not exactly answering his question.
“Why do we need to meet in a bar?”
“Not a bar—a speakeasy. In this case, an authentic one. I have new information, and we need to plan carefully to get Seth back alive.”
“Alright. When?”
“Give me an hour to make some calls. I know you’re edgy, and I realize that Seth’s in danger. I think this will help. I’m asking you to trust me.”
“See you then.”
Evan swore under his breath as he pocketed the phone.I can’t go charging in after Seth by myself, even if I had a clue about where he is. I need Joe’s help—and if he has friends, that’s even better. We don’t know how much time Seth has left. We’ve got to hurry.
He drove to the address Joe Mack provided and found himself standing in front of a classic theater. It had been well-maintained despite its age, and Evan wondered how different it might have looked in its prime.
Evan read the marquee and recognized the movie currently playing was a gay romcom indie film.Interesting place. I wonder how Joe is tied up with all this?
He walked into the theater’s foyer and found the corridor that led down the basement steps to a nondescript door. As Joe had instructed, he gave the coded knock.
It seemed like something out of a movie. A panel slid back, and he could see the doorman’s eyes.
“Joe Mack sent me,” Evan said, impatient with the procedures.Seth’s in trouble. We don’t have time for this.
The door opened. Evan felt like he had been transported back to the 1920s. The speakeasy’s days of serving bootleg liquor were long past, but the hidden bar’s vibe radiated the Roaring Twenties. An elaborate back bar with a huge mirror and ornately carved wood provided a focal point. The bar itself was just as massive and impressive.
Behind the bar, a good-looking man with black hair and gray eyes spared a glance for him as he entered. He cocked his head to the right. “Joe’s that way.”
“Thanks,” Evan said, searching for his contact. The rest of the speakeasy was mostly empty, with just a few patrons at the bar. A grand piano dominated one side of the room, silently awaiting its pianist. It didn’t take much imagination for Evan to picture the whole place filled with flappers and well-dressed gents, all fearful of a bust by the G-men.
Joe waved Evan over. His companions weren’t what Evan expected. A red-haired woman in a tailored pantsuit sat next to a man who took his fashion cues from David Bowie and Billie Porter.
“Evan Malone, meet Jenna Anderson and Adrian Harris.” Joe made room for Evan to sit beside him. “Evan’s a hunter, going after Willis Osborn. Jenna and Adrian are friends. They’ll be helpful in finding Seth.”
“Which one is the witch?” Evan asked, trying to imagine either of the people sitting across from him in that role.
“Neither. That would be me,” the bartender said as he wandered over.
“Evan, this is Johnny Laveccia. He owns the place.”
“You can speak candidly here. I’ve made sure no one else can hear you,” Johnny said with a smirk.
“Pleased to meet all of you,” Evan replied. “Now, how do we stop Osborn and save Seth?”
“There’s no ‘we,’” Jenna said. “You tell us what’s going on, and the professionals take it from here.”
“Fuck that.” Evan stood, and Joe yanked him back to the seat. “Look, I don’t know who you are—”
“Supernatural Secret Service,” she replied without missing a beat.
Evan glanced at Joe. “Is that a real thing?”
Joe nodded. “Afraid so.”
Jenna shot Joe a deadly glance. “Not helping.”
