Redemption Song (Daniel Faust #2)(73)

“I know,” she said softly.

“Listen,” I told Lars. “Bottom line is, you’re gonna be okay. You might have some rough nights for a while, but you’ll get past this.”

I didn’t tell him that my nightmares never went away. He’d earned a little hope, even if it wasn’t true.

“Was that…was that some kind of demon?” he said.

I looked over at the bottle and shook my head. “No. No, that was just a major-league *. You got someplace we can stash this, Agent Black?”

Harmony nodded grimly.

“I’ve got the perfect place,” she said. “Bottom of a cardboard box in an evidence room dedicated to cold cases. They told me a light blew out in there once, and it took five months before anyone even noticed.”

“Good deal. Hey, we worked pretty well back there together.”

She glowered at me, but she was too exhausted to put much anger into it. “Don’t make it a bigger deal than it was.”

“All right, all right. Lars, Harmony is going to bring you up to speed, but we’re pressed for time, so here’s the short version: the dead guy who was running around in your skin is a bargaining chip between a couple of world-class menaces to society. We’ve just taken that chip off the table, but they don’t know that.”

He pushed his shoulders back, taking a deep breath and steadying himself. The guy was tough, I’d give him that.

“What next?” Lars asked.

“What’s next is the really dangerous part. You just have a cameo, though. You’ve done more than enough already. Agent Black, did you get the other stuff on my list?”

“All of it,” she said.

“Good. First, to set the scene.”

I moved to the corner of the room, far enough away that they couldn’t overhear the other end of my phone call. I’d told Harmony that I knew of a mole inside Vegas Metro who answered to Sullivan. I didn’t tell her it was one of her own partners. I’d keep that secret as long as I could. Not for Gary Kemper’s sake, but because he was still useful to me. Gary answered on the fifth ring.

“Faust,” he groaned, “it’s four in the f*cking morning—”

“Non,” I said gravely, imitating Gilles’s accent the best I could. “Not Faust. Not anymore.”





Thirty-Six

The line went silent for a few seconds. When Gary came back, his voice was a whisper.

“No f*ckin’ way.”

“I have, how do you say, ‘upgraded my accommodations’?”

“This is Gilles de Rais,” Gary said flatly.

“Oui.”

“And you’re possessing the body of Daniel f*cking Faust.”

I chuckled, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Oui.”

“Well hot damn, Christmas came early this year! What happened to Lars? Is he okay?”

“Regrettably,” I said, “Faust and some lady…how do you say, ‘cop’? Attempted to apprehend me. There’s been a terrible accident.”

“Wait. Wait. Harmony? Harmony and Lars? What happened, de Rais? What did you do?”

“As I said, a terrible accident. You should come pick me up. Be swift and silent.”

I told him where to find me and hung up before he could ask any more questions. Harmony sat on the far end of the steel table, giving me a dubious look.

“What?” I said.

“That is the worst French accent I’ve ever heard. I thought you were doing a Pepé Le Pew impression.”

Lars nodded. “I heard him talking, inside my head. Didn’t sound anything like that.”

“Well, the only person I really have to impress is Sullivan, and from what I heard he wasn’t keen on spending too much time having a deep conversation with the guy. Hopefully he’ll overlook it.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Harmony asked.

“Then he tears me into itty-bitty pieces and scatters my body parts all over the desert. And this officially becomes the worst plan I’ve ever had.”

I emptied the second shopping bag onto the table. Lars arched a dubious eyebrow when he saw what was inside.

“So,” I said lightly. “Ready to die?”

? ? ?

I stood at the end of the corridor, imperious, with my hands braced on my hips. Gary almost broke into a run when he rounded the corner and saw me. Sweat plastered his sleep-tangled hair to his scalp.

“Where are they?” he demanded. “What did you do?”

I waved my hand at the frosted-over interrogation room mirror. The spell faded like a gust of hot breath, giving Gary a prime view of the room beyond the glass. His breath seized in his throat.

Lars slumped on the floor in the far corner of the room, his throat slit from ear to ear and caked with freshly dried blood. Harmony’s corpse lay on the stainless-steel table like a body ready for autopsy. Deep red stains pockmarked her ivory blouse in the aftermath of a savage stabbing. Her killer had left the knife behind, protruding from one of her eye sockets.

“Jesus Christ!” Gary shouted, drawing curious looks from down the hall.

“Be quiet!” I snapped, staying between him and the door.

“You just murdered two federal—” He caught himself, lowering his voice. “You murdered two goddamn federal agents, you sick bastard! Do you have any idea how much heat you just brought down on all of us?”