Chapter Seven
Fitz lasted until about four AM, when the potions were on a slow simmer, and I let him sleep. I kept reading and stirred the potions at intervals. I’d done enough of them in my day that I didn’t need to use the egg timer he’d been employing.
Around dawn, the potions finished up, and I let them cool.
I was feeling fairly gummy-eyed. The text in the books I’d been reading through was too small, or the lighting in the lab too dim, or maybe both.
As I got older, it was easier to skip sleep if necessary and harder to bounce back from it.
About half an hour after I’d turned off the burners on the potions, I found something useful in one of the books.
“Ah-hah!” I said. “Ah-hah-hah-hah!”
The trapdoor to the lab opened and Bear stuck her head down. “I know that sound,” she said. “It’s a victory cackle.”
I stuck my finger onto the page of the book and said, “I think I got a lead on whatever that stuff was in that mountain lion.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“It’s an Aztec demon,” I said. I was still reading.
“Oh, well, stuffy British wizard guy named Cromarty who wrote it theorizes it has existed everywhere there’s been a human civilization at one time or another.
Hmmmm. He calls it the Ancient Enemy. The Vulture of Empires.
The Lurker in the Shadows. Yadda, yadda, your basic Lovecraftian nonsense.
” I scanned on. “Apparently, it’s one big gelatinous entity, but it can break off pieces of itself to inhabit living beings.
Tends to appear in power vacuums when things are in turmoil.
Hmmm. Human cultists have worshipped it …
fall of Rome … Might have been the source of the Black Death.
Might have been part of why Eastern Europe went to hell in World War I.
Pretty much a generalized bad actor, but last verified by Wardens of the Council in central America during the European colonization … ”
“Sweet,” Bear said practically. “How do we kill it?”
I read on. “Your basic cleansing forces. Fire, blessed water, direct sunlight. Thing doesn’t do well during the day—didn’t want to hang around even during the fog and gloom yesterday.
” I grimaced. “Ugh. It survives by drinking blood. It can possess humans as well as animals—it doesn’t reproduce so much as increase its mass by infesting new beings.
Old Cromarty thought it might be where the Red Court came from … ”
My voice trailed off.
“What?” Bear asked.
“Aftermath of the Battle of Chicago is exactly the kind of place it would want to hang out. Look for new hosts …” I frowned and rubbed at my eyes. “What did you find out about this gang out of Vegas?”
“Estevez’s organization is part of a Mexican cartel,” Bear replied.
“Been expanding into the States wherever they can. They were handling illicit betting out of Vegas for years, but they’re losing market share now that the sports betting is being legalized.
They’ve been looking to expand. Monoc research thinks they’re working with the LaChaise group to nibble away at the edges of Marcone’s territory, trying to expand into various areas of their business. ”
“And there’s Marcone’s angle,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Bear asked.
“If it was just a bunch of gunnies from anywhere, Marcone would deal with them himself. He’s got people for that.
But these guys, somehow, have access to a genuine demonic entity and can apparently make it work for them.
Maybe in ways a lot more insidious and horrible than just sending freaky-strong animals at their enemies. ”
“So, he goes to Chicago’s finest supernatural buster,” Bear said.
“C’est moi,” I agreed. “To help Tripp, I’ll have to deal with Estevez’s crew. Or at least whoever it is they’ve got handling this thing for them. Then he can deal with the rest of the gang at his leisure.”
“You think Marcone couldn’t handle it on his own?” Bear asked.
“Why take the chance when he can throw me at it instead?” I asked. “It’s a no-lose scenario for him. If I take out the Lurker, he’s ahead. If it takes me out, I’m going to take a chunk of it with me, and he’s ahead, plus he can probably get the castle back.”
“Smart thing,” Bear said, “would probably be to bow out now.”
I took a deep breath and thought of Tripp carefully picking up Peppermint.
And how hideous that little tendril of the Lurker had felt.
“It probably would be,” I said. “But.”
Bear showed me her teeth. “All right, then. What’s our first move?”
“Depends on what Gard told you.”
She held up a notepad. On it was written Estevez and a phone number.
I snorted. “Then we start with sweet reason,” I said. “Set up a meeting with Estevez.”