Chapter 8
As Sam was getting ready to leave the hexworks for the day, the phone in his office rang.
Very few people had the number, so both Glenda and Luke looked up curiously at the sound. “Go on ahead,” Sam said, waving toward the lab door, while he headed back to the office. Glenda left, but Luke paused to stack some papers on one of the tables, so Sam closed the office door before answering.
“Sam,” Sullivan said warmly. “Glad I caught you before you left. How are things?”
“Good,” he replied. Surely Sullivan wasn’t calling him just to chat. “We could use an Egyptologist, though.”
“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, I wanted to finalize the invitation I mentioned to Miss Gatti the other night. Come to dinner at my place, tomorrow night. Bring Miss Gatti with you, and your familiar, Alistair.”
Sam doubted they were being invited just to socialize. But he couldn’t just ask for the real reason, so he said, “Thank you—I’ll let them know. What time should we arrive?”
“Let’s say eight. I’ll see you all then.”
Sullivan hung up. Sam lowered the receiver and stared at the telephone for a long moment. Why the hell did Sullivan want to talk to Wanda and Alistair? Or him, for that matter?
The phone didn’t offer any answers, so he left the hexworks and made straight for The Pride.
It was still early, but the after-work drinkers were trickling in, and the main room was filled with chatter.
The band wouldn’t play for another hour yet, when the dinner crowd showed up, but they were already there drinking whiskey and smoking gage.
He went straight back to the office, where Wanda and Alistair sat, Alistair bent over his books and Wanda on the phone. She hung up just as he entered, and they both looked at him.
“Come to see me?” Alistair asked with a pleased smile.
“Um, sort of,” Sam said with a wince. Alistair’s smile faded. “Mr. Sullivan wants us all to have dinner with him at his house tomorrow night at eight.”
“Fuck,” Wanda said succinctly. “I was hoping he’d forgotten about that.”
Sam twisted his cap in his hands. “I told him yes, I didn’t think I could refuse, unless you have some excuse…?”
Alistair stood up, crossed the room, and gently took the cap from him. “You did the right thing.”
“And there’s no point putting him off with an excuse.” Wanda sighed. “He wants to get his claws in deeper. Probably by supplying us booze.”
“No doubt.” Alistair hung Sam’s hat on the coatrack, then gave him a quick kiss. “Since you’re here, we’ll get dinner together. I’m calling it quits for the day.”
The door from the kitchen swung open, and Doris appeared in the hall outside. Her bronze face set in a grim expression, she said, “We’ve got trouble.”
Fear tingled in Sam’s extremities—if Doris thought something was trouble, it was bad.
Wanda rose to her feet. “What is it?”
“Fabiano is here to see you.”
* * *
Alistair sat tense in his chair as Doris showed Fabiano and her familiar into the office.
It had been hard to convince Sam to go into the main room and keep his head down, but he’d managed. The two toughs who accompanied Fabiano had agreed to stay out there as well, and were currently drinking on the house.
Not that he thought they’d drink much on the job. Both of them were big, and Alistair would bet good money they shifted into something ferocious enough to put up a fight against five big cats.
A fight was the last thing they needed, with a crowd of innocent civilians inside. Hopefully Fabiano would see it the same way.
She’d come in disguise, her thick black hair tucked up under a workman’s cap, her clothes indistinguishable from any other laborer looking for a drink.
Her heron familiar was in human form this time: yellow-eyed with a swoop of black hair, his figure long and lean as a knife blade.
There was a cold calculation to his gaze that made Alistair feel like a fish about to be speared.
Fuck that. He wasn’t about to be intimidated by a bird.
Wanda poured everyone a whiskey. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Miss Fabiano?” she asked, but her polite words were a veneer over her steely tone. “Seeing as you tried to have my brother killed last summer.”
Fabiano sat down like a queen on a throne. Her familiar lurked behind her chair, as if ready to pounce. “That was just business,” she said with a wave of her hand. “He reneged on a favor he owed me, my boys roughed him up a little, and that’s the end of it.”
“They were trying to kill me,” Alistair growled.
“And they failed.” She spread her hands. “Would you prefer I try again? Or shall we let bygones be bygones?”
Fur and feathers, he had enough troubles as it was. Though he wanted to snap at her, he forced himself to say, “Fine. We’re square.”
“See? We’re all reasonable businesspeople here.” She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “To answer your question, Miss Gatti, I’m here to offer you an opportunity.”
Wanda arched a brow and leaned back in her chair. “Oh?”
“I’m not going to bore you by telling you what you already know. Sullivan’s hold is tightening every day. I’d like you to help me loosen it.”
Oh, this was bad. Not to mention dangerous. “And why the hell should we do that?” Alistair growled.
The heron glared at him, but Fabiano chuckled. “Eloquent as ever, Mr. Gatti. What do you think will happen to you ‘independent operators’ if Sullivan succeeds in consolidating his hold on Chicago?”
“The same thing as I imagine will happen if you do instead,” Wanda replied smoothly.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Fabiano sipped her drink. “I’m here to offer you a deal. Help me out with Sullivan, and I’ll keep my hands off the place once I win. You can keep operating the way you always have.”
Wanda took out a cigarette. She didn’t offer one to Fabiano. “As you say, we’re independent. Neutral, in other words.”
Fabiano actually threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, sweetie, you aren’t stupid enough to believe that,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Sooner or later, you’re going to have to pick a side, or end up collateral damage. I’m giving you a chance to join the winning team.”
All Alistair’s senses seemed to sharpen, honed in to Fabiano. Did she know Sam worked for Sullivan? Maybe she was hoping to recruit him as a spy, in addition to the Gattis to her forces.
Wanda made a show of lighting her cigarette, as if she had all the time in the world. Once she’d puffed out a smoke ring, she finally said, “I appreciate your offer, Miss Fabiano. But I’m afraid I can’t accept it.”
The heron’s attention turned to Wanda, and Alistair prepared to launch out of his chair and into cheetah form.
Fabiano just shook her head. “Well. That’s a real shame, Miss Gatti. A real shame indeed.” She rose to her feet. “Thanks for the drink.”
They left. Alistair started to follow, but Wanda shook her head. They both stood, listening hard for the sound of any commotion, until Teresa appeared. “They’re gone.”
“Fur and feathers,” Wanda swore.
Alistair’s legs started to shake, and he sat down heavily. “This is bad, Wanda. Really bad.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” She sighed out a stream of smoke. “We’re going to have to inform Sullivan tomorrow.”
And end up further in his pocket. But there was no other choice. Sam needed to be protected, because even though Fabiano never mentioned him, assuming she didn’t know who he was would be insanely risky.
“I know,” he said. “Pass me the bottle.”