Wicked City (20 page)

“Zephyr!” Lily screamed. Just that, but it was enough for me to throw myself over Aileen's body. A blow that would have hit my head connected instead with the floor beneath me. I couldn't see my attacker very well even now—just that he seemed stocky and strong and bent on harming either me or Aileen. Neither was acceptable. I dove for his legs, hoping surprise could overcome his superior strength. He toppled to the floor like a carnival dummy, with a crash and a curse. This satisfied me even as I pressed my advantage, giving him a solid blow to the stomach. I wondered if my knife was sharp enough to do much damage to a human assailant. But I didn't have time to hunt for it beneath my skirt. With a grunt, the man wrenched out of my one-handed grip and walloped me on the side of my head. I fell to the floor, barely retaining consciousness. From my position beside Aileen, I saw the hazy figure of a man lurch to his feet and spit perilously close to my face.

“I had to,” he whispered, and I finally recognized him as the man from Madison's office. “She would have said everything. Didn't mean to hit you.” I stared, baffled, and attempted to get my arms underneath me. I flopped uselessly to the ground a moment later, but thankfully my assailant refrained from further violence. He just turned around and loped away. My third attempt to rise succeeded. Almost immediately, I wished it hadn't.

My head ached and my vision wobbled like a jelly mold. “Catch him!” I rasped.

I wouldn't have thought anyone had heard me—especially over the screaming, shouting racket coming from the auditorium behind the half-fallen curtains. But another shadow detached itself from the wall and set off after my assailant at a dead run with a whoop.

I
definitely
knew that voice. I smiled. Lily, apparently having decided she was in no immediate danger, ran over.

“Are you all right?” she said.

“I think you have a scoop,” I said, gingerly touching the swelling at my temple. It didn't feel as bad as I'd feared, though Lily was still in danger of getting vomit all over her haute couture. I decided it was best not to tell her.

“Ha!” Lily said, her voice shaking a little. “I think I have twenty. Is Aileen…”

We both looked over. “Aileen,” I called gently. She was breathing and her pulse was steady, but she didn't respond to us at all. Deep in the hallway backstage, someone shouted.

“Who in the blazes was that?” Lily asked, gripping my elbow.

My smile widened. “I think we're about to find out.”

The Society under-secretary poked her head beneath the curtain, her cheeks flushed apple-red. “Are you … Has it…”

“We seem fine,” I said, hoping my assertion made it true. “I heard a shot, but as far as I can tell, Aileen wasn't hit.”

The woman raised her eyes heavenward and put a doughy hand over her chest. “Thank the lord,” she said. “The police are on their way. I'm sure they'll catch whoever—”

The backstage lights as well as those in the auditorium flickered and then came back on with a high-pitched whine. I had never been so grateful for illumination: Aileen still hadn't regained consciousness, but at least I could be sure she wasn't quietly bleeding to death. A few seconds later, Harry came bounding back through the hall, a man slung across his broad shoulders.

Lily's eyes went wide as she saw him: a picture of youthful vigor and beauty, a dashing curl across his forehead.

“Got him, Zeph!” Harry proclaimed, tossing the man to the floor with somewhat vindictive force. He groaned, which reassured me—I didn't want Harry locked up for murder, even in self-defense. Daddy would cover the legal fees, but how he would complain.

The curtain was still half-fallen, but from my vantage point I could see quite a few waists drifting closer to the stage. I contemplated standing, but decided it was far more comfortable down here. The room still rocked in a manner that might have been pleasant had I been drunk.

The mayor poked his head beneath the curtain, a mere foot away from me. “Miss Hollis,” he said, a little breathlessly. “I always find you in the most fascinating situations. Is that man…”

“The culprit,” Harry said, nudging the man in the ribs with the toe of his leather boot. I wondered, idly, how Harry had managed to afford such well-tooled shoes. They were probably a present from some monogrammed letterhead or another, I decided.

The man rolled over, allowing me to see his face clearly for the first time. I had never seen him before that day in Madison's office, and yet both times he had behaved as though he knew me. I wondered why, but the faint, shimmering haze that seemed to have settled over my vision made it difficult to concentrate.

“How hard did that bastard hit me?” I muttered.

The mayor raised his eyebrows. “Such language, Miss Hollis.”

“Such prudery, Mr. Walker,” I said.

Judith Brandon's head joined that of her well-placed employer. “Isn't that Madison's man? What's his name…”

Jimmy Walker's sudden smile held more than a touch of schadenfreude. “Why, aren't you right, Judith? It's one of his foundling puppies. And it seems he assaulted a famous medium in public just as she would have divulged the identity of the vampire killer.”

I swear Walker was about to lick his well-formed lips. He raised his eyes heavenward. “My thanks, Boss,” he said, quietly.

“Mayor,” I said, aware my words were slurring and not entirely inclined to care, “you seem to like your ghosts.”

“I confess to being a convert,” said the mayor, his eyebrows raised in arch innocence. “What information the dead possess! And I have a suspicion, you see.” He ducked his head back under the curtain. “Madison!” he called, his stentorian politician voice booming like a foghorn through the continued din. “The proceedings on stage might be of interest to you.”

I looked back at Madison's assistant, now groaning his way back to consciousness beneath Harry's expensive shoes. I did not worry that he posed a further danger to me or Aileen. Harry was a Hollis, after all, and could do our daddy proud without my assistance.

By the time Madison himself poked his head under the curtain, the mayor was clearly not the only one wondering about his relationship with the man on the floor. But only my favorite deb reporter had the guts to say so.

“Mr. Madison,” Lily said, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook, “did your associate kill officer Zuckerman and the other vampires?”

Madison's ruddy face turned the shade of pickled beets. I giggled.

“How dare you imply such a thing, young lady!” His voice was very loud, and a few drops of foam-flecked spittle sprayed my cheek.

Lily wiped her forehead. “Well, he did assault the medium just as she was about to reveal the identity of the killer.”

“It's all fraud and nonsense,” Madison said, with quite unnecessary vigor.

I turned to him. “You spat in my ear.”

He stared at me like I was a statue that had inexplicably begun to talk. “I beg your pardon?” he managed.

“It wasn't very pleasant.”

“Why … I'm quite sorry.”

From deep inside the hallway, I heard the sound of several booted feet running toward the stage. I looked between Lily and the mayor.

“Who do you suppose that is?” I asked.

“The police, I hope,” said the under-secretary.

“I'm sure they'll sort this all out in a jiffy,” said the mayor. He pulled out a gray pocket square and dabbed at a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “I'm afraid, however, that I must depart. I have a prior engagement—”

“At the Ziegfeld, I'm sure,” I said. Judith Brandon glared at me, but the mayor just blinked in surprise and laughed.

“Everybody stay right where you are!” That was McConnell—to my surprise, I'd quite forgotten about him in the confusion. But he was at the head of a dozen of New York's finest, crowding the stage and pointing their firearms quite indiscriminately.

“Who fired the shot?” McConnell asked no one in particular.

My brother, who has always been lacking in common sense, stepped forward. “I did, sir,” he said.

McConnell trained his gun on Harry, who didn't look nearly as perturbed as he ought. A few feet away, the man groaned and his eyes fluttered.

“Which of them did you shoot?” McConnell asked.

At this, Harry bristled. “Neither, of course. He attacked the medium and I fired into the ceiling to scare him off.”

“Will Lady Cassandra be all right?” McConnell asked.

I checked Aileen hopefully for signs of consciousness, but she remained prone and insensate. Worry clamped my chest, and I wondered how much of her pallor could be attributed to cosmetics.

“I don't know. I think perhaps she needs a doctor,” I said, and swayed.

Lily caught me. “Zephyr, what's wrong with you?” she whispered.

“Just a … head thing,” I said. “Used to happen all the time in Montana. It'll go away in a day or so.”

McConnell put away his gun and walked closer to Aileen. “Perhaps she'll remember what Zuckerman was going to say?”

“I certainly hope so,” said Jimmy Walker. “I'm afraid the city can't stand much more of this. But perhaps, officer, your culprit has already revealed himself?”

The mayor nodded toward Madison's man, who blinked in the manner of one unwillingly roused from a deep sleep just as a police officer cuffed him.

“Yes, Mr. Madison,” Lily said, a hound with blood in her nose. “What about the crimes of your associate? Did you encourage him to kill unsuspecting vampires, including Officer Zuckerman?”

“I deny it completely!” he said, and wriggled awkwardly under the curtain from the theater floor until he was able to get his legs beneath him on stage. “If he committed any crimes in this matter, they are his own.”

McConnell stood his ground before Madison's bluster. “I seem to recall you telling your followers that it's God's calling to do anything to beat back the vampire scourge,” he said. “And now someone in your employ appears to have killed them. That's a remarkable coincidence, Mr. Madison.”

“I encourage no one to break the law,” Madison said angrily, but he looked at the crowd around him like I imagined a fox might watch the approaching hounds. “I merely advocate that we do all we can to keep our city safe from
them
.”

“In that case, I'm sure you'll have no objection to us searching your offices for any evidence relating to the crime?”

“You may search Brad's desk, of course. But much of my work is of a sensitive and confidential nature, and nothing of mine would be of use in your investigation.”

Remembering what I had found in the false bottom drawer of his office desk, I could well understand his discomfort with the idea.

“We'll see, won't we?” McConnell said, and turned around. The man, Brad, had sat up, staring like he was more or less awake. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

Brad blinked slowly. He surveyed the attentive crowd with a deliberate, burning hatred that made me shudder. I suddenly had no doubt that he had killed those vampires. “I don't say anything.”

“Did you kill Mort, you—” McConnell choked back what promised to be an epithet too colorful for polite company.

Brad's eyes darted around the room—landing on me, the mayor, Judith Brandon, and Madison before finally settling on his accuser.

“I won't talk,” he said.

McConnell sighed. “Take this one back to the station. Get her a doctor,” he said, gesturing to Aileen. “The rest of you are free to go. We might need to speak to you for questioning later. I haven't forgotten about you, Miss Hollis.”

I groaned, just a little. “I never thought otherwise, officer.”

The crowd dispersed as soon as the officers hauled Brad away. I stayed by Aileen with Lily.

“We should get her back home,” I said, though the thought of managing such a complicated matter was exacerbating the nausea caused by the blow to my head.

“Yes,” she said. “I'll call a doctor. I'll need someone to get her into the taxi, though.”

“That's a good idea,” I agreed, and surged to my knees.

“Will you … Zephyr, what is a head thing?”

“You should move your shoes,” I said.

Lily jumped back like I had shown her a snake. And good thing, as I proceeded to vomit all over the stage.

*   *   *

Harry took me out back. We determined that further evacuation of my stomach was best conducted away from the Society head, whose shrieks still echoed behind us.

“Remember that time in the Black Hills? Those revenants?”

I groaned and laughed at the same time. “Barely. I couldn't see straight for a week. Daddy said it served me right for not hitting soon enough.”

“Never made that mistake again though, did you?” Harry said.

I gulped the relatively cool night air and gratefully rested against my brother's side. “Guess not,” I said. “I should have seen that blow coming.”

“You're out of practice,” Harry said. “How often do you train?”

I attempted a glower, but it ended in a second, less violent, purging. “I'm attempting a higher good,” I said, wiping my mouth with a shaking hand. Harry handed me his handkerchief.

“You still oughtta train,” he said. “What would Daddy say if he saw you back there?”

I smiled in the face of his concern. “I don't know, Harry. Rumor has it he's gone crazy.” We were silent for a moment, listening to the cars trundling past the alley that now reeked of vomit in addition to garbage and piss.

“You should have been born first,” I said, suddenly. “You'd give him less grief.”

Harry drew himself up and cocked his head. “I doubt that, Zephyr,” he said, and I recalled the not quite secret about the nature of his love life.

“Let's go out front,” I said. “It stinks in here.”