The Living End (Daniel Faust #3)(53)

She hung up on me. They called my flight’s number over the PA system and I shuffled into line with the other red-eyed commuters, a flight of zombies headed east into the morning sun. I tried to nap again on the flight, but it was like sleeping in the terminal, just a shadowy imitation of the real thing that left me drowsier than when I started.

As soon as we touched down at McCarran, wheels slamming against the tarmac and jolting me out of my fugue, my phone was in my hand. I called for a family meeting.

Times change. Back in the old days we’d have our get-togethers at the Tiger’s Garden, but the Garden had a strict “magicians only” policy, and my crew had gotten a little more diverse lately. Bentley and Corman volunteered their place, and that was how we all eventually ended up squeezed into their living room, surrounded by antique bric-a-brac and the shadow of an empty, gilded parrot cage.

When I arrived, Margaux and Pixie were already there, sitting side by side on the couch and huddled over Pixie’s laptop. Bentley gave me a wave as he dragged a couple of folding chairs out from the kitchen nook. I jogged over to help.

“I think we can fit everyone in,” Bentley said, fretting over the clutter. “Corman and Jennifer should be back in a few minutes. They went out to get refreshments. I was going to make lemonade, but they thought something a bit harder might be advisable.”

“They’re not wrong,” I said.

He leaned in and lowered his voice. “That bad?”

I shrugged and gave him a gentle pat on the back. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

I hoped I wasn’t lying.

“Danny,” Margaux said, “where did you find this girl? She’s amazing! She just showed me a way to send money back home without making a ripple. No fees, no fuss, no nothin’.”

Pixie gave a modest wave. “Eh, it’s easy sauce. And taking advantage of big banks is kind of a moral imperative.”

“That’s what I’ve always thought,” I said.

Pixie shot me a look.

“Hey, Faust,” she said. “I hope we’re here to get some good news.”

Oh, boy. She wasn’t going to like this meeting at all.

Bentley scurried to answer a soft knock at the door. Caitlin stepped inside, cradling a bottle of red wine in the crook of her arm. She’d never been invited up above the bookstore into Bentley and Corman’s apartment. Looking between them, I wasn’t sure which one was more nervous.

“Caitlin,” Bentley said, his tone as unreadable as his face.

“I brought a gift,” she said quickly, offering him the bottle. “I know this isn’t exactly a social occasion, but it’s tradition among my people, and I appreciate being invited into your home.”

He reached for the bottle, but his arm froze when she said ‘among my people.’ Then he caught himself, forced a smile, and took the wine from her outstretched hand.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. “I’ll just put this in the kitchen.”

Bentley and Caitlin had one thing in common, and that was me. They’d come to a detente, especially after she had saved my life, but he still wasn’t thrilled with my choice of lovers and wasn’t too good at hiding it.

Caitlin came over and curled her arm around mine. The doorknob rattled a minute later, and Corman and Jennifer came in with a case of Sam Adams. It took me a second to realize why Jennifer looked different.

Oh no, I thought. She’s wearing makeup.

Jennifer plopped down next to Pixie on the couch, a lock of hair twisted around one anxious finger.

“Hey, sugar!” she said to Pixie. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been?”

“Beer me,” I said to Corman.

He gave me a bemused look. “Since when do you drink beer?”

“Since now.”

He tossed me a bottle and cracked open one for himself. Soon everyone was sitting down, filling the cramped living room anywhere they could find a spot, and all eyes were on me. I took a pull on the bottle, swallowing down the bitter hops, and tried to find a place to start.

Beginning at the beginning sounded like the best bet, so I walked them through it, from the New Life shelter to my sit-down with Bob Payton.

“So that’s that,” I said. “Once Carmichael gets all the victims she needs for the mass sacrifice and she’s done ‘attuning’ herself, she’ll be unstoppable. We don’t know how close to finished she is, either. Let’s assume time isn’t on our side.”

“This can’t be real,” Pixie said. “I mean, somebody tell me this isn’t real.”

“We don’t lie to our own,” Margaux said. She leaned back on the sofa and crossed her arms.

I looked out over a sea of grim faces. All but Pixie, who looked on the edge of a panic attack. She’d seen some things since I dragged her into my world, sure, but she didn’t know how bad it could get. Not until now.

“No second chances this time,” I said. “We stop Carmichael, for good, and put her in the ground where she belongs. Her and everyone with her. What we need right now is a plan.”





Twenty-Six



“The whole building’s basically a machine, right?” Jennifer said. “Mystic circuitry and four-dimensional architecture, but a machine’s a machine.”