Catastrophe (4 page)

A few blocks away in an alley, the painted wooden sign for the Joyous Harlot hung on display. I rolled my eyes at the big-busted, curvy redhead painted beneath the letters. She wouldn’t even be able to stand up with those things. I went inside and it was every bit as loud and crowded as the human bars were. No one really even looked over at me as I weaved my way through the crowd to the rickety staircase.

On the third floor I found McNeil’s room and unlocked the door, but the room had already been cleaned. Everything neat, and all the drawers and closets were empty. There wasn’t even an article of clothing left. I relocked the door behind me and went looking for someone who worked here.

“Hey,” I called out to the bartender downstairs. She didn’t look up at me as she made drinks, but she raised an eyebrow. “Is there a manager or owner here?”

“You’re looking at her,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m friends with the last occupant of room seven. I came for his things.”

She nodded. “Check with housekeeping. You don’t come back for two days, and the room is cleared out. Everyone knows the rules.”

“Where can I find them?”

“Top floor,” she said.

I went back up the stairs all the way to attic. On the door at the very top was a handwritten sign that said housekeeping. I knocked on the door. A person about the size of a child answered. “Whoa. And it isn’t even my birthday. What I can do for you, mama?”

It was the huge nose and bad skin that gave away it was a kobold. It was an interesting choice for a hotel housekeeping department given their proclivity for practical jokes, but the labor was probably cheap. “I’m looking for the belongings of the former resident of room seven.”

“Gone,” he said, lighting a cigar and leering at me. “But why don’t you come inside anyway?” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “I’m sure I could find something to give you.”

I looked down at the little man. “What do you mean gone?”

“Scattered…in the wind. Had I known you were coming, I would have saved you a trinket or two.” He put his hand on the side of my knee. “He didn’t come back, so we took it. That’s the agreement. Got a problem with that, take it to someone else. Now in or out?”

“You’re a disgusting little man,” I said as I picked him up by his crusty brown shirt. “If you touch me again, I will nail you to the wall and watch you bleed.”

“Your loss,” he said as I dropped him to the floor. “I’m small, but mighty.”

I laughed the rest of the way down. Next stop, Falcon’s hotel.

Where McNeil may have been cleaned out, Falcon’s room was a completely different story. Everything was still in her room. Her duffel bag was on the floor and messy, like she had recently rifled through it. Also unlike the last hotel, hers was quiet and off the beaten path.

I lifted her mattress, but nothing was beneath it. I went through the garbage can piece by piece, but there weren’t any leads there either. I searched the place top to bottom, but nothing indicating that she was even on an investigation popped up. I threw everything of hers that I could find back into her bag and zipped it closed, taking it with me. When all this was wrapped up, I’d take the bag to her family. It was the least I could do.

My phone rang as I trotted down the stairs. “Hello?”

“You need to come home,” my sister said.

“Dendera, someday I’m going to change my phone number and not give you the new one,” I said. “Every time you call it is the same thing. How about each week, I just leave myself a note that says ‘you need to go home,’ and that way you won’t have to keep calling.”

“Mother is ill,” she said in a soft tone. “We need you here. This nonsense has to stop.”

It wasn’t possible. My mother was the strongest person I had ever known. Sure, she was a royal pain in my ass and wanted to run every piece of my life, but she had never been sick since the day I was born. “I’m sure she’ll bounce back.”

Dendera sighed. “I’m not.”

I couldn’t do this now. Dendera’s dramatics weren’t going to get me to come home. I’d left that place, and our very own mother told me the moment I set foot off our land that I wasn’t welcome back. I took that deal and never once regretted it. “Well, she has plenty of other lives.”

“How can you be so cold?” my sister asked. “We are your family. You mean nothing to those other people. You are just a tool for them to use. Darius still waits for you too. Come home. Everything can go back to how it was.”

“Even if that’s true, is it better to be a tool who gets to experience life or a bargaining chip sold to the highest bidder to improve our family’s social status?” I waited for Dendera to answer as I left the hotel, but she never did. “Tell Mother I hope she feels better soon, but if she doesn’t, tell her not to fight death. It only makes it hurt more.”

She tsked. “You would know. You have died more than any of us.”

“I’ve lived more than any of you, too.” A group of vampires on the corner caught my eye. They were being entirely too inconspicuous not to be conspicuous. I openly watched them as I passed by, though none of them made eye contact with me. “I’m in the middle of a case. I really do need to go if there isn’t anything else.”

“Why do you insist on throwing away your life?” my sister mumbled.

“I think we have different ideas about what the word ‘life’ means. Come visit me, Dendera. I promise you’ll never want to go back. I will show you what living is really about.”

“I’ll update you on Mother when I know more,” she said. “Be safe, Femi. We’ll be here waiting for you when you do decide to come home.”

I hung up the phone and headed immediately for Hatchet and Mace’s rooms. Their rooms were no different. I collected everything I could find from each room and took it all back to my hotel, but the problem was it really wasn’t anything to go on. Mostly I had clothing, a few weapons, and a map of the city. That was all.

I tossed their bags and keys into my closet and got out Sy’s folder. If there wasn’t anything in the rooms, then I needed to go to the crime scenes. I didn’t bother looking at the pictures again. They weren’t going to tell me anything new, not yet. I needed an idea of what to look for. I flipped them all over so I could see the names, addresses, and dates that were written on the back. I retrieved Mace’s map of New Orleans and set to work pinpointing each location where a body was found.

There was a knock on my door. I glanced at the clock. The hours had ticked by and my body was stiff. It was nearly five a.m., too early for housekeeping. I folded the map and collected the pictures, tucking it all back into the folder and sliding it to the bottom of my duffel bag before I went to the door, knife already in hand.

“Who is it?” I asked, not looking through the peephole. It was a common mistake. Put your eye up to a hole in the door and you have no idea what might come through it, skewering you and your brain. Enough beings in the Abyss were able to regenerate that most people interested in killing someone just went for the brain. Destroying enough of that would prevent most people from coming back.

“Um, I’m looking for a bounty hunter named Femi,” said an unsure voice.

I opened the door in a flash and dragged a mostly human-looking man inside by the neck, pinning him to the door and pressing my knife to his throat. “Who are you and how did you know where I was?” I asked calmly.

“Amos,” he croaked. “I’m Amos. Leilah sent me to be your guide around the city. I work with the council.”

My fingers loosened slightly so he could talk better. “You have thirty seconds to make me believe you before we find out how well you can survive without a head.”

His eyes grew wider. “I’m the council representative in this area. New Orleans has a large Abyss population, and someone has to keep tabs on it.”

It sounded sort of like what Sy did from Chicago, but it was hard to tell exactly, because Sy would never give me a straight answer on what his actual involvement with the council was. The fact that this guy would was suspicious. “Do you know Sy?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said, relaxing a little. “Who doesn’t?”

“Don’t move. Not a muscle.”

I released my hold on him, but kept the knife to his throat as I called Sy.

He answered on the second ring. “You know I can’t help you.”

“Do you know someone named Amos?” I asked.

Sy didn’t answer for a moment. “Vaguely.”

“He said he was sent by Leilah. I need a confirmation.”

“Hold on a sec,” he said, and the phone went silent.

Amos shifted, and I pressed the knife hard enough against his throat to draw blood. “Ah, ah, ah,” I said. “Your story hasn’t been verified.”

“Femi?” Sy said.

“Still here.”

“He’s fine. Leilah confirmed his story. She said he’s there to take you to the crime scenes and to get you anything you might need.” He paused like there was more, but didn’t continue.

“And?”

“Just watch your back. He’s not your friend. He’s there to report to the council what you are doing.”

So he was like a babysitter. I nodded. “Gotcha. Later.” I hung up and narrowed my eyes at Amos. “Looks like someone didn’t quite tell me the whole truth.”

His mouth fell open and his voice rose at least an octave. “I did. Leilah sent me. Call her. She’ll tell you.”

I laughed, twirling the knife back to my waistband. “I’m just messing with you. So you are supposed to take me to the crime scenes.”

He nodded, knuckles still white. “I’m supposed to help you in whatever manner you need assistance. I came by earlier, but you were already out.”

“How did you know I was even here?”

He smiled a little. “This is my city. I have contacts everywhere. I knew the moment you checked in.”

I raised an eyebrow, thinking about the vampires who had been watching me earlier. He was definitely in a Sy-like position, then. “So what are you?” I asked.

“Doppelganger,” he said.

If he could look like anyone in the world, why would he choose his current look? He was maybe five and a half feet, with sharp, angular features and frightened eyes. Not exactly the most intimidating of figures. “How’d you get involved with the council?”

He smiled, but shook his head. “It’s a long story.” He moved past me, deeper into my room. “So where would you like to start?”

“Did you meet any of the other bounty hunters who came here?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know why they were here. The council wasn’t involved yet. I assumed it was random. We get a lot of traffic in and out. I can’t keep track of everyone.”

So obviously he had been briefed on what the case was. “Let’s start with the first crime scene,” I said. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

He nodded. “I’ll be in the lobby,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

I stripped off my leather pants and halter top. If I was to appear human, like Sy suggested, I had to wear something less sensible—the coven of witches taught me that. I pulled on a pair of black jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather moto jacket. I topped it off with my silver-heeled boots and glanced in the mirror to make sure nothing was in my teeth before I started downstairs, realizing that it had been hours since I last ate.

I thumped Amos on the back of the head as I walked past him. “Anywhere to get breakfast on the way?” I asked as he jogged to keep up with me.

“Sure,” he said. “We have lots of great places. You want anything in particular?”

“Just food,” I said. “The faster the better.”

“Okay, this is my car,” he said, stopping abruptly next to a black sedan with heavily tinted windows.

“We can’t walk there?”

He shook his head. “You said you wanted to go to the first crime scene, right? That’s in another parish. Hop in.” He opened the passenger door for me.

I climbed into his vehicle, and he expertly wove his way through the early morning traffic as we headed out of the city and into the country. “And there are restaurants out here?” I asked.

He laughed. “Some of the best you will ever eat at, I promise you.”

Fifteen minutes later we pulled into the parking lot of a little café and were seated almost immediately. We were off to a good start. I glanced at the menu, immediately spotting what I wanted. Before the waitress could escape, I placed my order: a skillet breakfast with Cajun beans, eggs, hash browns, and hollandaise sauce, with a side of French toast and coffee.

Amos ordered the heart-healthy breakfast. I shook my head. Why even bother? When she left, I leaned in closer. “So tell me what you know about the first crime scene.”

He frowned. “Not much. This is out of my area. All I know is the victim was a ghoul the locals called Gus. He was a bit of a drifter from cemetery to cemetery, so they didn’t realize immediately that he was missing. When they finally started looking for him, well, they didn’t find much.”

I nodded. They hadn’t found much of anyone. Whatever it was obviously wasn’t just targeting the living if its first kill was a ghoul. Ghouls were undead, sort of like vampires, but they survived on the flesh of dead humans. It was actually pretty disgusting. So disgusting, in fact, that most creatures, living or undead, avoided them.