The Curse Servant (The Dark Choir Book 2) (36 page)

Brown’s eyes narrowed.

“She might have days left. Her parents are going insane. And they’re good people. They’re the kind of people you want representing the Craft in this country. They believe in Good. They play by the rules. And if the Presidium actually gives a shit about the good people of this country like they say they do, then they’re going to let the one person I’ve found who can remove this servitor fly in without grief.”

Brown looked down at the photo, then back up to me. “This is personal?”

“As personal as it gets. So, I’ve got about ten minutes before Giancarlo comes up here with a gun. I need an answer. You going to let this girl get eaten alive, or are you going to allow me this one-day cease fire?”

He shoved the photo forward to me. “If I arrange this guarantee for you, would you say this would affect your decision to continue campaigning for Sullivan?”

“Wexler drove that point home already.”

“Did she? My experience watching you, Mister Lake, is you tend to accept authority about as well as you accept cheap Scotch. I told Wexler you wouldn’t react well to being threatened. But if you agree to it of your own volition, not coercion, I would feel more confident in your word.”

“Fine. If it gets this done, you have my word. No more Sullivan. I’m out.”

Brown reached into his desk and produced a sheet of paper with the Presidium’s Eye of Providence embossed in gold print. He wrote the letter long-hand, signed it, and stamped a seal in wax over his signature. He offered it to me to review. It was kosher, a one-day agreement that the Presidium would not take any action or allow any action to befall Gillette that would result in her inconvenience.

I nodded and handed the letter back to Brown.

“I’ll have a courier pick this up within the hour. Gillette should have it by morning.”

I stood with my arms at my sides, unsure of what to do next.

“And we do have an agreement, don’t we?”

I nodded.

“I’ll inform the others. This should make our lives considerably simpler, Mister Lake. And we may return to business as usual.”

I turned and stepped out of his office.

Brown called after me, “It’s not too late, you know.”

“Too late for what?” I asked without turning back.

“Your talents are considerable. Your resourcefulness, your perseverance. You tend to side with us more often than not. It’s not too late to consider joining us. There’s much you could offer.”

This was the second time the Presidium floated that pitch past me. Though, it was slimier coming from Brown.

I smiled at Brown and replied, “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s worth considering.”

“Sorry, Brown. But I do have standards, and you people are just… cheap Scotch.”

I made it down the steps before Giancarlo came storming up. Rather, he was waiting patiently by the front doors. He even held the door open for me, though he didn’t say goodbye. As I got into my car and drove back down the gravel path, I caught a glimpse of the white-bricked building in my rearview mirror, and I just knew this would be the last time I’d ever see the place. What surprised me more than anything was how little I felt as I drove away. This Club wasn’t just done with me.

I was done with it.

So I had the Presidium’s guarantee. Carmody’s blood. All I needed was for everything to fall together smoothly, and maybe there was a chance to save Elle after all.

I did have one last call to make, though.

I tried three times on the way home to reach Julian, but his phone continued to roll into voice mail. I got a dreadful feeling as I drove back down the Jones Falls Expressway. I needed to warn him not to contact me, and find a way to word it so I didn’t invoke the Presidium’s wrath any further than I had already. It was bad enough I basically marched directly into one of their offices and made demands. It would be quite another if they realized that my payment for Gillette’s services was to perform an unsanctioned Nether Curse on an innocent man.

When I got home, I poured myself the last of my Talisker, sat on my couch, and for the first time in over a week, actually bothered to turn on my television. It wasn’t long before I realized why Julian wasn’t picking up his phone.

A news reporter stood in front of City Hall as the banner beneath her name proclaimed
Breaking News
and
Sex Scandal in City Hall
. I turned up the volume and leaned forward as the reporter droned on.

“―for the past three years. His name has been withheld out of respect for his family, but our sources confirm that the victim was under the age of eighteen when he began an ongoing sexual relationship with Deputy Mayor Bright.”

lease tell me it’s bullshit.”

“Of course it is.”

“Then you can fight this.”

“That’s not the point, Dorian. I can’t let this hang around Sully’s neck. The damage is already done. It could only get worse.”

I paced with my phone in my front room, trying to sort my thoughts. “Look, this is obviously McHenry. It’s slander. It’s criminal. You can use this against him. Maybe finally have a smoking gun we can put him away with.”

“There’s no smoking gun,” Julian explained, barking into his cell phone over a din of voices in the background. “I made calls. If it’s McHenry, then he covered his tracks.”

“Of course he did. We just have to dig deeper.”

Julian sighed. “Well, that’s what I have you for, right?”

My stomach balled into a knot. “Uh, well. About that.”

“What now?”

“Julian? I’ve made a deal with some powerful people today.”

“Look, things are a little insane right now. Can we talk about this later?”

“We can’t talk after this phone call.”

After a space of background noise, Julian coughed, “Huh?”

“I have to get out of politics. Off your payroll.”

“Dorian?”

“It’s something I have to do.”

“McHenry?”

“No. This is bigger. Look, it’s up to you to make sure Sullivan stays in that building. You can’t resign over this.”

“It’s done, Dorian.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me―”

“What do you think I was going to do? I can’t help him anymore. I’ve become a liability.”

“They can’t get away with this. They can’t ruin your life with lies like this.”

“I’ll be fine, Dorian. This only has to stick long enough to win Sooner the election. Then I bet this will all magically disappear, and we’ll all go about our lives, or whatever resembles our lives when this is over.” He sighed. “I guess we couldn’t win this one, huh?”

I chewed on my lip. “Look, uh, Julian. After the fall, when you’re in your new resemble-life, call me up then. We’ll get a drink.”

“Maybe talk about old times, something like that?”

“Something like that.”

He held his phone aside to make a few comments to someone in his room, then muttered to me, “I have to go. But I just wanted to say thank you, Dorian.”

“Don’t think I did much, Julian.”

“You did. We did. I’ll see you.”

After he hung up, I was left with the distinct impression I wouldn’t ever see him again.

And just like that, McHenry had won the election. Rather, Sooner would win in a few months. But the final nail had been driven. McHenry’s grip over Baltimore would be final, and there was no telling how long it would take to remove him. I thought about McHenry for a long time that evening. I considered running out for more Scotch, but something about leaving my house at that moment just felt terrifying to me. I needed something to be solid, constant. I needed something to be the way it was.

But there was no one to call. I couldn’t call Edgar without having something definitive for him, and I wouldn’t get that until tomorrow morning. I couldn’t belly up to Big Ben’s bar and spend some time receiving my share of abuse from him. And as weak as I was that night, I couldn’t call Ches. It wouldn’t have helped.

So I sat in my house with nothing to do with myself beyond stewing over the way McHenry had just screwed Julian’s entire life. My anger built and redoubled, and I found myself pacing. At some point I spotted the envelope on my desk, still sitting there, still waiting for my signature. There was a time not too many hours ago it seemed to be a set conclusion that I would sign those documents and sell my properties directly to McHenry. It made sense at the time. It made all the sense. But now? Fuck him. I was willing to hold onto those properties out of sheer vicious spite. It was the most I could do; it was perhaps the only route available to me.

I snatched the envelope from the desk and hucked it into the waste basket under my window. My nervous energy remained unabated, however, and I continued to pace. I made a pass through the house trying to tidy up, though I hadn’t been around enough in the last couple days to really make a mess. By the time I had rinsed and hand-dried all of my glassware, I was already re-thinking trashing McHenry’s offer. The lure of the money was potent. My brain tangled with possibilities and options that money could open up for me. I wouldn’t simply catch up on my bills. I could build on something new.

I looked back down at the envelope in the trash. With a quick teeth-clench, I reached in and pulled it back out. When I slipped it back onto my desk, the paperwork slid out a little, taunting me. I thumbed the first few pages free of the envelope and snapped them in front of my face.

An intelligent man would put these papers in front of an attorney’s nose, or at the very least an accountant. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be McHenry’s attorney. My eyes rose to the letterhead, curious who was washing McHenry’s financial blood off their hands.

Grey and Lisle.

By God, that son of a bitch had Grey and Lisle on retainer.

I took a seat, and let the thought simmer for a moment. When the plan finally landed, I reached for the brochure Sullivan had given me, and my phone.

And I called Ari Leibnitz.

“Hello?”

“Ari? It’s Dorian Lake.”

“Hmm? Oh. Oh! Hello, Mister Lake.”

“How are things in the office?”

He muffled his voice a little. “Much improved, thanks to you.”

“That’s good to hear. Listen, I have a matter I need some professional advice on.”

“I don’t know how much use I’d be in your line of work.”

“No, no. This is a matter of dollars and sense, and real estate.”

“Ah. Well, our office hours are Monday through Friday―”

“I want to deal with you, Ari. We’ve done business, and I trust you.”

“I take it this is a sensitive matter of real estate?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, Mister Lake, I’m unsure if we clearly stipulated whether any further professional dealings would be owed to your services rendered.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you. We’re both professionals. Professionals get paid. Can we meet tomorrow?”

“Lunch time is the best time for you?”

“Let’s make it early,” I countered. “I’m expecting a busy day tomorrow.”

“Can you meet me in my office at nine a.m.?”

“Done.”

I hung up with a sense of forward motion. This offer would come in handy after all, just not in the way McHenry had intended.

I took some time to step out of my house and walk down to the café. It was closed, now well past lunch. The patio chairs were turned up on the tables, and the windows inside were dark. I kept walking, making it to the MLK. The first waves of cool evening air drifted off of the harbor, and I kept walking. People passed me on the street, not noticing me, not really caring. I was a shadow, completely innocuous. I dropped a fiver in a panhandler’s bucket, and managed to catch a woman engrossed in texting before she stepped into traffic. The deeper I plunged into the heart of the city, the more I felt like my feet were calling the steps.