Night Terrors (11 page)

“Neither, thanks. But I was hoping you might be able to offer me a little… insight into what happened.”

Deacon’s smile widened, revealing teeth so very white they nearly gleamed. “I thought you and Jinx were off the case.”

“We are. That means anything you tell me is
off
the record.”

He chuckled. “And if I’m able to provide any useful insight?”

“Then Jinx and I will owe you a favor.”

“A sizeable one.”

“Let’s say medium-ish.”

He thought for a moment. “All right. I’ll tell you what I can. Shoot.”

What I can
meant what he felt comfortable telling me, but I knew it was the best I’d get out of him. I didn’t bother filling him in on the details of our battle with Quietus or the assassin’s subsequent escape. I wouldn’t dream of insulting him by telling him what he already knew. Instead, I asked, “Any idea who the masked man with the monster dog is?”

“He’s an Ideator who calls himself Nocturne. Cute alias, huh? I don’t know what his real name is. He calls the dog Bloodshedder.”

Nocturne.
I wasn’t familiar with the name. It struck me as a bit pretentious, but
Bloodshedder
, however, was a perfect name for his beast.

“Who’s he work for?” I asked.

“Himself. He’s freelance.”

“Which is another way of saying
mercenary
.”

Deacon shrugged. “From what I understand, he’s more of a jack-of-all-trades than hired muscle. Whatever you want done, he can do it. Except killing. He’ll do it when he’s forced to, mind, but he’s not an assassin.”

Interesting. A bad guy with a moral code. I’ve never had a thing for bad boys, but I was beginning to think in his case I could make an exception.

Now for the big question. “He ever come in here?”

Deacon’s frown was all the answer I needed. Deacon views himself as a true neutral party when it comes to Incubi affairs, and he insists that Wet Dreams be respected as neutral territory by all his customers. Asking him to reveal whether or not Nocturne was a customer was tantamount to asking him to take sides – and he didn’t like it.

Maggie got up from her stool, came over, and sat next to me.

“I couldn’t help overhearing, hon,” she said.

“Only because you were listening so hard,” the Darkness said sullenly.

Maggie ignored him.

“I’ve seen Nocturne in here a couple times. The first time, he brought that awful dog of his, but the horrid thing took a gigantic dump on the floor, and Deacon told Nocturne that the next time he came back, he had to leave the dog outside. Although where you could possibly leave a beast like that without drawing any attention is beyond me.”

As Maggie spoke, Abe got up and came over to join us. “It climbs up the alley wall and hangs there like a lizard or a spider. I saw it once when I was coming in. Damn creepy.”

I imagined Bloodshedder clinging to the surface of a brick wall high above me as I walked through the alley. It would make a perfect vantage point to watch prospective prey and then, when the time was right, launch an attack. That was a detail I planned on remembering.

Deacon’s frown deepened into a scowl as the conversation continued, but he didn’t try to prevent Abe and Maggie from talking with me. As I said, he prefers to remain as neutral as possible, even when it irritates him.

“He came in late both times I saw him,” Maggie said. “Three, four o’clock.”

“I’ve seen him several times, too,” Abe added. “Always around 3am or so.”

Late, but not too late for Incubi or Ideators. There was still an hour or two before dawn. And not every Ideator or Incubus heads back to Nod before sunrise, and since we don’t sleep, late and early don’t mean much to us. Still, it was another detail to take note of.

“What did he do when he was here?” I asked. “He hang out with anyone in particular?”

“You mean someone like Quietus?” Maggie asked. She has a loud voice, something she seems unaware of, and when she spoke Quietus’ name, the few other customers in the bar grew quiet and turned to look at her. I gave them my best “I’m an officer on official duty” look, and they turned away and went back to what they were doing.

“Quietus isn’t allowed in here,” Deacon said, voice tight with anger. “You know that, Maggie. Too many people hold grudges against him. I can tolerate a fight in here from time to time. After all, it
is
a bar. But I refuse to have people killing each other left and right in here. It’s bad for business.”

I watched Deacon’s face closely as he spoke. He wasn’t above lying to protect his bar, and if Quietus did come here from time to time, Deacon wouldn’t admit it to me. I decided he was telling the truth, though. He wouldn’t want the hassle of allowing Quietus to drink here. Assuming the faceless Incubus
could
drink.

Before I could speak again, Lizzie Longlegs let out a high-pitched laugh that sliced through the air with all the sharpness and force of a finely honed katana. Everyone in the bar turned to look in her direction, suddenly on edge. She smiled and patted Cancer Jack’s hand, though, and everyone relaxed.

I turned back to Deacon, Maggie, and Abe. “I’m interested in anyone Nocturne might have associated with,” I said. “I’m trying to get a sense of who he is, what his habits are, that kind of thing.”

Both Maggie and Abe thought for a while after that.

“He sat at a table by the door when I saw him,” Abe said after a time.

Maggie nodded. “Same here. I don’t recall anyone sitting with him, though. Do you, Abe?”

He shook his head. “He drank alone. Draft beer.”

Damn! I was hoping I could get a lead on any friends or associates of his that I might be able to track down and question. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. On impulse, I asked, “Did he wear his mask?”

Both Maggie and Abe confirmed that he’d worn his mask the entire time he’d been in Wet Dreams.

“Is that important?” Abe asked.

Before I could answer, the Darkness let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Of course it is,” he said. “It means Nocturne doesn’t want anyone to recognize him, which means he’s afraid someone
will
. Someone important.”

Deacon had been silent for a while, but now he said, “Could mean he just wants to keep a low profile. When you’re not fussy about who you work for, you’re bound to piss off a few folks.”

The Darkness finished the last of his Coke, put the glass down on the bar a little harder than necessary, and shook his head. “With that Incubus of his? Mask or no mask, there’s no hiding who he is with that thing accompanying him. If he’s trying to hide his identity, it’s so no one knows who he is during the day on Earth.”

I was impressed. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“Of
course
it does,” the Darkness said, his voice rising. “Why do you sound so surprised? Do you think I’m too stupid to come up with good ideas?”

A look of concern came over Maggie’s face, and she got up and went back over to the Darkness. She smiled as she put a hand on his shoulder.

“Inside voice, hon.”

The Darkness’ features twisted into a mask of fury, but then all his anger drained from him, and he smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“No worries,” Maggie said. “Let’s go, sweetie. We’ll get some ice cream. That always puts you in a good mood.”

I knew what Maggie was doing. The calmer she could keep the Darkness during the day, the easier she’d be able to control him at night.

“I don’t want to,” the Darkness said, almost pouting.

“You can get extra sprinkles.”

The Darkness took that in, considered, then nodded. He rose from his bar stool and headed off with Maggie.

“Good luck, dear!” she called to me as they left. I waved back, and then she and the Darkness stepped outside.

I let out a relieved breath as the door closed behind them, and I wasn’t the only one. Even Deacon relaxed a little. The Darkness makes everyone nervous. Everyone except Maggie, that is.

We were all quiet for a time after that. Deacon started talking to Abe about how the Cubs were doing, and I fought the urge to join in. Instead, I contemplated what I’d learned so far. Nocturne and Bloodshedder were known to Chicago’s Incubi community, but not to me or Jinx – which seemed so unlikely as to be almost impossible. Collectively, there are thousands of Incubi on Earth and in Nod, and new ones come into existence every night. There’s no way the Shadow Watch – let alone its individual officers – can keep track of them all.

But in my own city, I know all the major players and most of the minor ones. And no way would I have forgotten a masked cutie with a demon dog companion. So Nocturne wasn’t only trying to keep a low profile, he’d been avoiding Jinx and me. Until last night, that is. Why? Was he – despite Deacon’s assurance that Nocturne himself wasn’t an assassin – an accomplice of Quietus? Or perhaps even Quietus’ employer? Just because Nocturne didn’t like to kill himself didn’t mean he minded someone else doing the job for him.

What bothered me more than any of that, though, was the nagging feeling of familiarity I experienced whenever I thought about Nocturne. I
knew
him somehow, I was sure of it. His voice, the way he moved, his presence… But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember.

Cancer Jack picked that moment to slam his fist down on the table he shared with Lizzie Longlegs.

“We should start seeing other people again?” Jack shouted. “Are you
serious?
”

Once more, we all turned to look in the couple’s direction, and this time, we were even more tense than before. Jack’s face was twisted with anger and Lizzie’s gaze was cold and glittering.

Jack noticed us watching, and he gave us a wave, indicating that everything was all right and that we should go back to our business. We did so, but I doubted that would be the last outburst from them, and I decided to keep an eye on the couple.

I then turned to Abe and asked, “Are you holding?”

Abe and Deacon stopped talking baseball and turned to look at me. Deacon arched an eyebrow in surprised interest. Abe went pale.

“I– I don’t–”

“Don’t worry,” I interrupted. “I’m not going to bust you. I just want to know if you got any mem on you.”

Abe went even paler. “Seriously, Audra. I don’t use–”

“Bullshit,” I said mildly.

Not sleeping – and more, not dreaming – is hard on both the human body and mind. When an Ideator psychically taps into the Maelstrom to create an Incubus, something happens to change us mentally and physically so we can survive without sleep. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Ideators who aren’t careful can be prone to physical exhaustion, mood swings, and in extreme cases, irrational behavior. Because of this, almost every Ideator needs a little pharmacological help to get by. Myself included, although I’m not proud of it.

It doesn’t help that the Shadow Watch has deemed such drugs unsafe and made most of them illegal. But you know what? Sometimes even the police have to say fuck the police. I don’t carry drugs on my person, though. Not counting my rev inhaler, which – if not precisely legal – is tolerated by the Shadow Watch. But I’m not above mooching off a friend, acquaintance, or even an enemy if necessary. And although Abe wasn’t a true Ideator, he carried Ideator drugs on him as part of his façade.

Abe looked to Deacon and then turned to gaze longingly at the door, as if trying to decide if he could get to it before I tackled him. Evidently he decided his chances of escape weren’t good, because he turned back around on his stool and sighed.

“Yeah, I got a couple mem tabs. Holding them for a friend, you know?”

“Isn’t everyone?” I said.

Abe reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a piece of rumpled tinfoil. He pried it open to reveal a dozen different pills of various shapes, sizes, and colors. I recognized mems, stunners, and tinglies. There were a couple I was unfamiliar with, and I was tempted to ask Abe what they were and, more importantly, what they did, but I restrained myself. I was working, after all.

There was no jump juice in Abe’s stash, though. That’s strictly an Incubi drug. If humans take it, there’s a better-than-even chance that our hearts will explode. Doesn’t stop some morons from taking the chance, though. I was glad to see that Abe wasn’t one of them.

Without waiting for Abe to offer, I reached out and took a single mem tab. I considered taking a second in case the first didn’t work, but I decided against it. No need to be greedy.

“You want dollars or yoonies?” I asked Abe.

He looked confused.

“For the pill. I want to pay you for it.”

“Um, dollars are good, I guess.”

I knew why Abe was hesitant. Like a lot of people, he expected me to use my authority as an officer to take what I wanted. But I don’t roll that way. I might not be the cleanest officer in the Shadow Watch, but I’m not an asshole, either.

I pulled a couple twenties out of my wallet and handed them to Abe. He took them without comment, folded them, and tucked them into his back pocket. Then he sealed the tinfoil containing his drugs and put that back in his pocket, too.

“What do you need a mem for?” Deacon asked.

I wanted to tell him it was none of his damn business, but he was an information broker. Being nosy was normal for him. And one of the ways you paid for his information was to provide information when he asked.

“I’m convinced I know Nocturne, but I can’t figure out from where. I’m hoping my little friend here” – I held up the blue pill – “will jog my memory.”

Deacon frowned. “You know they don’t work like that. You can’t just select a memory like picking a movie to slide into a DVD player.”

Mem – short for
memory
– induces backsteps. Some Ideators rely on backsteps to replace the dreams they no longer have. But instead of waiting for backsteps to occur naturally, they use chemistry to make them happen on a regular basis.