Chapter Sixteen
Father Forthill was one of the guys in the Catholic Church who knew the real score about the supernatural.
There were more of those guys than you would think, but almost none of them rose very far in the church’s hierarchy.
When you know how dangerous the real world can be, you have a lot less time and patience for politics.
Once I knew about the Lurker’s connection to the Red Court, I’d called him to see what he could find out for me.
Bear came striding into the library, holding a brown paper portfolio, and passed it over to me.
I took it from her, opened it, and started scanning documents. “Ah-hah,” I muttered after a few moments. “I figured as much. For a subversive underground, the Brotherhood of St. Giles kept really good records.”
Bear frowned. “They were the half-vampire guys fighting the Red Court all through South and Central America, right?”
“Them and some of the more-militant portions of the Church,” I agreed. “Bingo.” I took a page out of the portfolio and held it up. “Estevez.”
“He was with the Brotherhood?” Bear asked.
“One of their operatives,” I said, nodding.
“The Brotherhood weren’t a bunch of Boy Scouts.
They were pretty much just as vicious as the Red Court.
Maybe more so, because they had to be to survive.
” I read through his profile. “He was pretty new, so when the blood curse hit him and stripped the rampire out of him, he didn’t lose much. ”
“Rampire?” Bear asked.
“Red Court vampire,” I said impatiently. “It gets to be a pain saying it over and over.”
“Ah. Understood.”
“The Red Court made a lot of their money through criminal gangs,” I mused, reading, “as well as through governments, which are much the same but with more paperwork. Estevez was a young cartel hotshot whom they decided to promote to rampire against his will. Sent him straight into the arms of the Brotherhood of St. Giles. Where, get this, he was into researching the subordinate supernatural beings and organizations of the Red Court.”
I paused at the bottom of the original profile, reading the name of the Brotherhood operative who wrote it. Martin.
That bastard.
My fingers could still feel the phantom sensation of the obsidian knife in my hand.
The hot sprinkle of blood on my fingers.
I took a slow breath and brought myself back to the present.
“Then what?” Bear asked quietly.
“That’s the end of the original report. But it seems reasonable to assume that after the Red Court went down, Estevez went back to his roots to go into business for himself.
Must have made some kind of deal with the cult of the Lurker to be his muscle.
He’d have known about them from his work with the Brotherhood. ”
“So, how come the Lurker doesn’t just take him over too?” Bear asked.
“Guy who fought off the Red Thirst for several years probably isn’t going to be nearly as troubled by the Lurker’s blandishments, I’d think.
” I returned to scanning profile pages in the next section of the portfolio.
“And here we go. Emilio. No last name. He’s the leader of a cult of practitioners.
According to the Brotherhood, he’d been working with the Red Court since at least … eighteen forty-seven.”
“He’s hung in there,” Bear noted.
“If he’s a wizard-level talent, he would have, but he looks younger than me,” I said.
“Must have made a deal with the Red Court—his services in exchange for immortality without becoming an actual rampire—which is where the Lurker comes in. Hell of an inducement the Red Court could offer. No wonder they could spread their influence so readily.”
“You think Emilio’s better than you?” Bear asked.
“If I’m not damned careful, maybe,” I said.
“I wouldn’t think he had more raw power.
But we both know strength isn’t always important in a fight.
Plus, he’s supercharging black magic with human blood, and he’s got to have a lot of experience fighting dirty.
He was smart enough to survive the death of his patrons too.
Though without them, he’d have to start making some kind of new life for himself. Hence teaming up with Estevez.”
I put the profile pages back and closed the portfolio, idly spinning the string around the button to keep it that way, thinking.
“Estevez. He and the Lurker are using each other. Emilio clearly has issues with his impulse control, but Estevez is a businessman. If he was the sort to give in to his urges, he wouldn’t have made the Brotherhood of St. Giles.
And he wouldn’t be a threat to Marcone.”
“And Marcone wouldn’t have come to you,” Bear noted in a neutral voice.
“Hngh. Estevez is the dangerous one. The Lurker is just a weapon. Maybe kill it with fire wasn’t the best plan I could have come up with,” I said.
Bear grinned. “When it works, it works.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But now I’m thinking we’re going to have to go about this a little differently.”
“Different how?”
I sighed. “More gangster. Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I want to set up another meeting with Estevez …”
Before I could continue, Fitz opened the library door and popped his head in. “Hey, guys, I’m dying for protein, gonna go cook. You want anything?”
My stomach gurgled at the idea. “Tough day,” I said. “We deserve steak. Bear?”
The big Valkyrie grinned. “I always like to eat.”
“About time for those porterhouses,” I said. “They should be thawed out by now.”
“Hell yeah, porterhouse,” Fitz said, and headed for the kitchen.
“Want me to set it up the same way?” she asked. “Broad daylight, lots of people?”
“Just the opposite,” I said. “Late, two nights from now. That’s their deadline. I’m thinking the bird sanctuary.”
The Valkyrie did not look pleased. “Montrose Point? That’s thick brush, away from people, with Lake Michigan cutting off three-quarters of the directions for a retreat.”
“I know, right?” I said. “They’d be fools not to hit us with everything they have. So, here’s how I want to set it up …”
We spent a few minutes plotting the meeting and picking the spot. Bear had some good ideas. We folded them into the plan.
And then the hairs on the back of my neck went up.
It wasn’t as intense as the sensation I’d experienced in the presence of Emilio, but there it was.
The Lurker was nearby.
Bear twigged to it only a couple of seconds after I did. “Uh-oh,” she said. “You feel that?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But it couldn’t have come in over the threshold. And the castle defenses would have gone up if it had even tried, unless …”
Unless the Lurker had infested one of the castle’s residents. Someone who had been directly exposed to its physical substance in close proximity.
“Fitz,” Bear said.
“Kitchen,” I snapped.
And then we were both up and moving.