Death March: Black Magic Outlaw Page 13

  "What's with the tie?" asked Kasper without turning his head our direction. "It's the break of dawn."

  Shen cleared his throat and straightened his jacket. "It's almost noon, old timer."

  The buzzing of the needle paused for a second before continuing. Kasper was putting the finishing touches on the thick black outline of a red heart. I tried to read the word across the design but didn't want to stare at the woman's butt too hard... even if it was well framed by the flimsy thong.

  "I drew it myself," she proclaimed proudly. "But I wouldn't trust anyone else with my ass besides Kasper." I grinned.

  "You'd be surprised how many women have told me that," he remarked. He wiped the ink down with a towel and leaned back. "There you go, Melody. Why don't you walk it off and wait in the back a minute?"

  "Whatever you say." She swung long legs around and stood, angling her butt to the mirror to get a better look. It was a good look.

  "He means excuse us," reminded Shen loudly. Melody huffed at him and disappeared into the back. Kasper glared.

  "Sorry," I said. "He's not good with people." The old man just grunted. "We got another cipher." I handed him my phone since I hadn't printed this one.

  Kasper frowned and compared it to his photocopy. "This cipher has the same intro. That's good. A pattern is a clue. If we figure it out we can decode the rest of this thing."

  "You think it's more than gibberish?" asked Shen.

  Kasper ignored the question. He picked up a pen and copied the cipher to his paper. "I gotta be honest with you, Cisco. This doesn't look like it has anything to do with my talents."

  "Yeah," I said. "I examined the original and there wasn't a trace of spellcraft."

  "Then I don't know how much I can help." He dug around the counter for a smoke and took a long drag. "I got some downtime today. I'll take a look between appointments and see what I come up with."

  "Downtime. Give me a break." Shen hissed.

  Kasper considered him for the first time. "Do you have a problem, kid?"

  "Kid?"

  "Yeah, kid." Kasper stepped into Shen's face. "You walk into my shop, make rude comments to my clients, and otherwise act like I'm a washed-up nobody. I know who you are. Not you, specifically, because you're less important than a pimple on my ass. But I know about your organization and you don't scare me. If it wasn't for Cisco walking you in you'd already have your arm broken in three places."

  I flashed a showy grin. "I told you to wait in the car."

  "That was good advice," grumbled Kasper. "Take it next time." He brushed his shoulder into the illusionist on his way past. "I gotta take a leak."

  I managed a "Thanks, Kasper" before he hit the bathroom. We walked outside without new information.

  "Too defensive, if you ask me," muttered Shen. "I never called him washed up. That's his own self-doubt chafing his ass, not anything I said. Besides, he had nothing to give us anyway."

  I shook my head. "Do you wake up in the morning and decide to be an insufferable douche or do you take lessons?"

  "Fuck you. You're just mad you haven't gotten anywhere yet. If we're gonna waste our day talking to a hypnotist, how about we fucking get started and talk to a hypnotist?" Shen held up his phone. Someone in the Society had texted him Quentin Capshaw's hotel information.

  We loaded into the Firebird. The back end of the car swerved as I peeled out.

  Despite Shen's information giving us a goalpost, he still used every minute of the drive to discredit the idea that we were doing anything other than wasting time. I had to hand it to him how well connected his organization was to locate Quentin Capshaw so fast, but the dude could be less smug about it.

  It was probably that annoyance that made me sloppy, because I'd let my guard down. We were almost at the hotel when I noticed the windowless black van behind us. The compact cargo vehicle had limo tints on the front windows and even a darkened windshield. I made a few superfluous turns. Shen was navigating and complained loudly, but the maneuvers confirmed my suspicions. As we approached a yellow streetlight, I stopped short and waited for it to go red.

  "What are you doing?" he grumbled. "We could've made the light."

  "I didn't want to." I slipped the gear into neutral and pulled the parking brake. I waited as the line of traffic stopped behind. Shen noticed me checking the rearview mirror and turned around.

  "What is it?"

  "We're being followed."

  "By who?" He turned back in time to see me pulling a shotgun from the shadows. "Whoa! What the hell—?"

  I pushed the door open and set an alligator boot on the street.

  Chapter 23

  Shen grabbed my arm. "Hold it. You're crazy."

  "I'm not crazy. That black van's following us. Let go of my arm."

  He chuckled derisively. "Followed. Would you listen to yourself?" My eyes glared at his hand on my arm. "This isn't some old-school detective movie."

  I clenched my jaw. "No, but the Obsidian March is looking to off me these days, so we'll need to call reality stranger than fiction. Let go of my arm."

  His grip tightened. "I can't let you—"

  I cracked the butt of the shotgun into his face and hopped from the car. My boots twisted on the asphalt and I marched along the single lane of cars. The driver of the red Ford immediately behind the Firebird laid on his horn. The stoplight was already green.

  Damn. It had taken too long for the van to come to a stop because it had been following at a distance. Now I was out of time with a line of jittery drivers behind me. The man pounded his horn again but froze as soon as he saw the weapon in my hand. I stomped by him.

  The motorcyclist behind him freaked out and recoiled, attempting to maneuver out of the lane but panicking and dropping his bike in my path. I tried to catch it then cursed as more cars honked. I skirted the motorcycle and picked up my pace.

  The black van flipped into reverse and hit the bumper of the car behind it. I broke out into a sprint. Tires screeched as it rounded through a U-turn and made it to the opposing empty lane. I kicked the back bumper before it accelerated out of reach.

  "Damn it!" I screamed as the van sped away. I considered opening fire but that would've been irresponsible. Although I had my suspicions, I couldn't be sure who or what was in the van.

  I stormed back toward my car. "Sorry," I weakly offered the guy climbing back on his motorcycle. His eyes through the open helmet were angry.

  "Fuck off."

  Before I could explain, he veered the bike around my car and shot through the intersection.

  I grumbled and returned to my seat. Shen was wiping a bloody nose. The honking had stopped but I cleared the lane, turning down several side streets to get lost in the city.

  "You're a psychopath," leveled Shen.

  "I'm chasing psychopaths," I fumed. "There's a difference."

  "You're a menace. You can't walk around with a gun in broad daylight."

  I popped a left turn and looped back toward our destination. "The van full of vampires would like that to be true."

  "We weren't being followed."

  "You saw them speed off."

  He grunted in pain. "You were holding a gun. Of course they ran." He checked his napkin to confirm his nose had stopped bleeding. "Now you have a whole lane of civilians who called 911. And you don't even give a shit. You're gonna get arrested again."

  "How about we cool it with the talk until we find the hypnotist?"

  We parked and made our way into the lobby. The place was more convention center than boutique hotel, which made sense, given our person of interest. The problem was the heightened crowd demanded heightened security staff. Despite knowing Quentin's floor and room, getting to him wouldn't be trivial. A security guard was visually confirming hotel key cards before he allowed access to the elevator. I scanned for an alternate stairway.

  "Keep walking," said Shen, paying attention as an elderly couple before us flashed their key. I did as he asked but didn't think we'd be able to pul
l off being the couple's brash sons. Aside from us being too far behind, the couple would have third-degree burns before they ever managed my level of tan. There was also the fact that Shen was Chinese.

  Before the security guard could ask to see our credentials, Shen flashed a key card. The man nodded as we brushed past. We hurried into the elevator as the couple scanned their card in the reader. Shen stepped between them and the panel. "Which floor?" he asked politely whilst pushing eight, the button we needed.

  "Oh," said the old lady. "Seven. Thank you, young man."

  Shen nodded. He pressed seven but the button didn't light up. He waved his key card before the scanner. Nothing happened. "It's not..."

  "That's okay, young man." The woman swiped her key. Shen lit up their button and waited with a smile. He charmed them from beginning to end, even holding the doors open as they filed out on the seventh floor. As soon as the doors closed, the key card in his hand flickered out.

  "That's gotta come in handy," I said.

  "You have no idea."

  "Not a bad bit of social engineering either."

  Shen pressed his lips together, unsure how to take the compliment. After a moment of deliberation, he settled on, "Thanks."

  The eighth floor was quiet as we made our way to the hypnotist's door.

  "So how does this work?" I asked. "Do guys like this register with the Society? You have a secret handshake or something?"

  "Nothing like that. He doesn't even know who we are. So that's what we use against him."

  I nodded, impressed. We stopped at the door. I signaled for him to do the honors. He knocked.

  "Mr. Capshaw, we have a situation."

  Chapter 24

  A balding man with thick plastic glasses opened the door. He squinted at Shen pointedly. "You don't work for the hotel."

  "No, we don't."

  Shen pushed in. I followed and shut the door.

  "Don't make me call security," he threatened. "Or worse." He ripped the glasses from his face and widened a mysterious eye at the illusionist.

  "Don't bother," said Shen. He held up his palm. A seed sprouted and grew into a short vine, green and robust. The leaves curled and turned brown. Within a matter of seconds, the entire plant withered and decayed into dust.

  "Oh," said Quentin flatly. "Who are you?"

  "That's not important. We're like you, and we have reason to believe your life is in danger."

  He eyed me as well. "Is this some kind of shakedown?"

  "Not in the slightest," I assured. "A few other... talents have been murdered recently."

  Shen's eyes warned me against revealing too much. "It could be nothing, but we want to make sure your life's not in danger."

  "What are you talking about? Who would want to kill me?"

  "Does that matter?" Shen asked.

  The hypnotist frowned.

  I walked deeper into the bedroom and cleared the bathroom. "Are you staying here with anyone, Mr. Capshaw?"

  "No. I tour alone. My publicist stays in the same hotel."

  "Have you had any strange encounters?" asked Shen. "Any unusual threats?"

  Quentin scoffed. "I get all kinds of threatening mail left for me. Angry spouses who admitted to cheating. You'd be surprised how many are women."

  I arched an eyebrow. "I thought you were a hypnotist."

  "I am. As a display of my impeccable power, I get people to announce their deepest secrets to each other."

  "Like Jerry Springer."

  He seemed only mildly offended at the comparison.

  "What about someone complaining that your powers are evil?" suggested Shen. "That you consort with demons?"

  "Only every other week," he answered. "Look, are you absolutely sure my life is in danger? Who do you work for? I know a thing or two about cons, and believe me, this doesn't pass the smell test."

  "We don't want anything from you," I repeated.

  "Of course not," he snorted, growing more suspicious by the second. "You just want to help me. Perhaps you can find my stolen briefcase, is that it? You can give it back. All you ask for is a nominal fee."

  "What briefcase?" asked Shen.

  "Get out of my room!" snapped Quentin. "You steal my belongings and try to sell them back to me? You can keep that briefcase and everything in it!"

  "But—"

  "Get out!"

  I shoved Quentin backward onto the bed. He immediately realized his precarious position and clammed up, still bouncing slightly.

  "We're not here to rip you off," I promised.

  He arched one eye dramatically and locked gazes. "You will leave my hotel room. Now."

  Strangely, I did feel a tickling in my brain.

  "You will leave my hotel room," he repeated.

  I smacked him across the face. "These aren't the droids you're looking for. Now would you quit making it difficult to save your life?"

  He clenched his teeth and pouted.

  "You said someone stole your briefcase. When?"

  He pouted but answered. "Yesterday afternoon. I was having lunch downstairs. I set it down and went to the bathroom, and when I came back it was gone."

  I turned to Shen. "He's quick. We're studying the body and he's already scoping out his next victim."

  Quentin's face paled. "Body?"

  "What was in the briefcase?"

  "N—Nothing. My papers, my schedule. I was serious about not needing it back. The biggest hassle was asking the maid to open my room for me."

  My eyes narrowed. "Your key card was stolen?"

  "Yes, but I have a duplicate." He pointed to the one on the nightstand.

  "That's his way in." Shen's face tightened. He still wasn't convinced this was a practical lead, but it was hard to deny the opportunity.

  "Am... Am I in danger?" asked Quentin meekly.

  "Change your key card," I told him. "Change your room, even. Do you carry a weapon?"

  Quentin Capshaw made his famous hypnotizing face. "I don't need a weapon."

  "An actual weapon," I urged.

  He gulped. "Um, I have a Swiss Army knife."

  "Keep that on hand. Get a gun if you can."

  "A... gun?"

  Shen casually strolled to the door. "And watch your back."

  "What do you mean, watch my back?"

  "Someone might be trying to kill you," I reiterated.

  Quentin Capshaw looked like the smallest man in the world right now. "Are you sure you don't want anything from me?" he asked meekly. "I liked this better when it was a scam."

  "We can try to keep an eye on you, but there's no replacement for being cautious."

  "You must have bodyguards," added Shen. "Pay them overtime." He walked out the door and waited for me to follow.

  I felt bad about leaving, but we'd warned him. "Good luck, Quentin."

  On the way down in the elevator, we discussed options. Shen was right that we had no idea when Manifesto would strike, but we both figured it would be before the Sunday show. That left three days, counting today. When we were downstairs, he called Darcy and caught her up. He said she'd watch the hypnotist.

  It was getting late and my stomach was grumbling. Instead of going outside, I suggested we eat in. The hotel restaurant was a pseudo-hip gastropub with ample seating at high tables. We grabbed a couple of stools and ordered burgers.

  After dipping a few fries in cheese sauce and chowing down, I figured we could bury the hatchet. "I can see why Simon wants you on this," I said. "You have useful talents. For a pessimistic know-it-all."

  He chuckled. "You too, for an unstable hotshot."

  I smiled. "I'm still not sure how much I like Darcy watching this guy. We don't know what Manifesto's capable of."

  He set the remains of his burger down. "She's tougher than you think. She wants to do this. In all seriousness, the rogue outlaw rep you cultivate is overrated. Darcy's a pragmatist. If you're not with the Society, you're nobody."

  "That's exactly the kind of peer pressure I can't get be
hind." I slurped the dregs of soda from between ice cubes and leaned in. "Can you honestly claim you love being their errand boy? What if you didn't need the money? Say you're a millionaire—would you still work for them?"

  "I would. It's a purpose. It's a place to belong."

  "Belong? You can have a life without them."

  He shrugged. "I could do whatever I want. What's wrong with them?"

  "I can't believe you're asking me that. My introduction to the Society was a little heavy-handed, to say the least. It's why you and I are always giving each other a hard time."

  He shrugged and chomped at his burger again. I backed away from the subject. If I was honest with myself, I didn't know enough about the Society to be preachy. My distaste was more of a gut feeling.

  "What about Diana? She in the club?"

  "Maybe one day. She's been apprenticing with me."

  "She's been doing more than that."

  He laughed. "Yeah, well, what can I say?"

  Despite being out of soda, I couldn't help myself with the fries. They were too good and I kept dousing them in cheese.

  "I can see why you think they're bad," conceded Shen, referring back to the Society. "They're rich and they're protecting their interests. But half the time it means killing scumbags like Manifesto or..."

  "Or me," I finished. "Which is the problem with personal interests. I was getting in the way of their good drug cartel money."

  "It's not like that. We didn't kill you."

  "Not for lack of trying."

  "We just held you for Margo," he insisted.

  "That's the same excuse the vampires are using on me. They wanna talk. Thing is, when talks like those go south, killing usually follows."

  He shrugged. "I guess that's the way of things, sometimes."