Indigo(10)

Nora smiled, and this time it was genuine. “It’s a date.”

“We don’t do dates. We’re friends.”

“With benefits.”

“Hmm. Don’t get me going.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem. Get some sleep. Kick a cat for me.” Sam hated her cats. He was allergic to them, and he swore that they homed in on him if he ever came to visit. That was why most of their overnight meetings were at his place in Brooklyn.

Nora placed her phone carefully onto the worktop and reached for the kettle. Sirens rang in the distance. Muted voices came in from elsewhere in the apartment block. Horns honked. The sounds of the city ensured that the night was never silent, and soon she would be back out in it.

Dawn was still few hours away, and in that time Indigo would get to work.

*

The skills one acquired as an investigative journalist. Even though Bullington didn’t advertise his services as a lawyer, it only took her five minutes and three databases to scare up his address. After that, she spent some time considering what she already knew; then she showered, dressed, ate a light breakfast, and made a big mug of coffee.

Forming a plan always gave her a sense of control, even if she couldn’t shake the idea that her level of control was far more nebulous than she wanted to believe.

Indigo traveled through the predawn gloom, stepping into a shadow in her apartment and emerging again on West Forty-Ninth Street. A squirrel scampered away, squealing in shock and rustling through a pile of refuse bags lying torn open across an alleyway. She shrugged away the darkness drawn to her and moved out onto the street, intending to confront Bullington as Nora. Though her blood was up and her fury ignited, killing was always a last resort, even if the lawyer turned out to be connected to the Children of Phonos. The temptation to just pitch him off a roof would be far greater if she went to him as Indigo.

So Nora it was.

In the hour before sunrise, the Manhattan streets were already busy. Delivery trucks rumbled along concrete canyons, a couple of police cruisers rolled by, taxis driven by tired drivers wended their way from one place to another. Pedestrians walked with a purpose, to or from work. Vagrants still huddled in a few doorways, and Nora felt eyes upon her as she walked from north to south on Ninth. She was cautious, but not worried. She carried her press card, useful in case of questions from a curious police officer.

If danger came from another quarter, Indigo was ready to spring from the shadows.

She had intentionally emerged several blocks from Bullington’s address, so she could gather her thoughts while walking. The slayings were ritualistic, which meant human sacrifice in some sort of perverted black-magic bullshit. The Phonoi thought themselves servants to the gods of murder, but they were really only paying homage to the gods of blood and death, sickness and perversion.

She hated every one of them. The trouble was that she was constantly struggling with the desire to hate herself, as well. She kept murder as a final option, and she had a life of her own to live. She was more than a vigilante, more than the shadows she wielded as Indigo. Nora Hesper had a job, she had joys and responsibilities. Yes, of course, she had used her work as a journalist to poke into the Children of Phonos, but without much luck. Now she could only wonder whether things might have been different. If she’d put everything else aside, if she’d dedicated every moment to tracking down and exterminating all of the members of this chapter of the cult a year ago, would these four children still be alive?

Maybe, she thought. Or maybe you’d have just pulled more chapters to New York and there’d have been even more twisted bastards sacrificing kids to the murder gods.

When she reached Bullington’s address, she crossed the street and entered a diner. Even at seven in the morning it was busy, and Nora found comfort in the gentle hubbub. A radio played in the background, some people ate breakfast and drank coffee alone, others sat in pairs or small groups, laughing and chatting as they prepared for their day ahead. Most of them would live a normal day with few surprises. She envied them.

But as she drank her coffee and looked across the street, she reminded herself that Indigo might be making things better. It was how she maintained her sanity.

Bullington’s office was on the fourth floor above a launderette. Just after Nora had ordered blueberry pancakes for breakfast and settled down to wait for opening hours, she saw movement in his office window. She frowned, shielding her eyes from dawn light reflected through the diner’s windows, and she concentrated on the building opposite.

The movement came again. A flicker of curtain, then a shadow passing left to right. Someone was in Bullington’s office. The light was on inside.

Nora chewed on her pancakes, but she was no longer hungry. Maybe Bullington was already at work, or perhaps he actually lived up there. Either way, she would not have to wait for an hour as she’d expected.

The bathroom was at the back of the diner, close to the busy, noisy kitchen. The chef sang, loud and tuneless, and a waitress good-naturedly berated him. They were entirely too immersed in each other to notice Nora as she moved quickly past the open door, and along a narrow hallway. At the end, a fire door stood propped open.

The alleyway beyond was silent, still, stinking. This, too, was a place of shadows. They shimmered as Nora stepped out from the building, as if inviting her in. She accepted the invitation, submersing herself in darkness.

For a moment, she felt lost in the dark. That had never before happened.