Flight of the Crow (7 page)

“Mistress,” Fenix gushed. “It is I, your best whipping girl, Fenix Sahir.”

“But Fenix must be an old woman by now as am I. You are young, just a
bébé.
”

“Nevertheless, I am Fenix.”
Chat
was thin and muscular. Her arms were ropes of sinewy strength. Her dark hair, piled high on her head, was obviously dyed black and her cheeks were rouged, but the remnants of her beauty still remained in the perfect bones of her face, her large brown eyes and wide mouth.

She allowed Fenix to pull her into an embrace and kissed her on both cheeks. “Yes, you are Fenix. Always you smell of the sun, lavender and freshly washed clothing.” She held her at arm's length and stared into her eyes. “Why are you here?”

Fenix sat in one of the plush red-velvet chairs in front of Mistress's desk and smoothed her gown. The dominatrix wore a skin-tight, black leather dress with a low-cut bodice, along with thigh-high boots. She'd wrapped an old paisley shawl around her shoulders against the early-morning chill which she tightened as she moved behind the desk and sat in her leather chair.

“The murders, of course.”

Mistress lifted one finely drawn brow. “What do they have to do with you?”

“They are being committed by an older man who dresses as a Priest. Have you had such a customer or seen him in the area?”

She leaned back in her chair and ran a long finger with a bright red lacquered nail down her lean cheek. “A priest?”

Fenix hovered on the edge of her chair so excited she could hardly sit still. “Yes, an older man in a black cassock with long gray hair and a huge silver cross dangling from his waist.”

“Does he sometimes carry a cane with a silver dragon head on the top?”

Fenix placed a hand on her breasts above her racing heart. “The dragon, oh yes.”

“I've seen him praying with groups of prostitutes on the street corner.” She pointed toward the
Pigalle
. “The corner of
rue
Sainte-Anne and
rue
Therese, and once I saw him coming out of a building on the
rue
de Seine
.”

“What kind of building?”

She looked thoughtful. “I believe it was a building cut up into small flats.”

Fenix sucked in her breath. “Can you tell me the address?”

Mistress
Chat
shrugged, a very Gallic expression. “I'm not sure. I would have to see it again. I do remember I could see the tower of Saint Sulpice from the street.”

Fenix smiled. “I know that church. It's old.”

The dominatrix shot out a claw-like hand and grabbed Fenix's arm. “You will not go hunting for this man. If he's murdering these women, he's very dangerous. Fenix, the dead girl in the alley had red-gold hair like yours. If you go hunting for him, he will see you and kill you.”

“I'm stronger than you know,” Fenix said carefully considering what to tell this woman. “I can well care for myself.”

Chat
tilted her head and inspected Fenix carefully from head to toe. “I don't believe it. You look like a child.”

Fenix held her palms flat and created a fire ball in their center. She tossed it up in the air several times, spun it and then made it disappear. Mistress
Chat's
eyes grew wide. “I can do much more. Believe me when I say, I can take care of myself. I am so much older than you can imagine.”

The dominatrix leaned forward. “Your sister, she can do this, too?”

Fenix leaned back in her chair. “To Bryn, I am as a baby. Her powers are not as mine, but she's a very dangerous woman.”

“She was here this morning. Behind the building speaking with the
gendarmes
.”

“Take me to the building where you saw the priest,” Fenix said.

Mistress
Chat
smiled. “And what will you do for me in return?”

Fenix instantly knew what
Chat
wanted. She smiled slyly. “I can whip a few of your clients for you. I imagine some are looking for new adventures, more dangerous situations. Maybe some very exclusive and special clients.”

Mistress
Chat's
eyes glowed. “Yes, I have several special clients just as you say, looking for more adventure, a more exciting experience with a new dominatrix, a new and infinitely beautiful woman to control them and make them beg for mercy.”

“Then we are agreed. You will take me.”

Chat
meant cat in French and at that moment the dominatrix looked exactly like one. Her slanted eyes glowed, her pointed chin twitched and Fenix expected her to purr or lick her paw at any moment. “I am done here,
finis.
We will go and tonight you will come and entertain my clients
especial.
”

Fenix was so excited she felt like dancing. She would find Priest before Bryn even knew where he lived and she would steal the dagger proving to her sister she could take care of herself.

They went out the back door. The police were gone and so was the dead body. One of the new steam-powered horseless carriages waited. The dominatrix opened the door and hustled Fenix inside. She climbed in beside her and leaned forward to speak to the driver. He released a lever and the chug of the steam engine increased. Amazed, Fenix stared as they rolled down the alley without the benefit of horses.

“This is your first ride in a steam powered carriage?”

“I think so. Sometimes my memories are imperfect, but yes. I can't believe it moves so fast and so easily.”

Mistress
Chat
leaned against the black leather upholstery and closed her eyes. “It is a luxury but I no longer have to keep horses. So convenient, you see.”

The driver kept to wider roads finally turning into the
rue de Seine.
He stopped in front of a building made of the white limestone so common in Paris. It was six stories high with a black door. Curtains fluttered in many of the windows. Fenix turned and stared behind. She saw the tower of Saint Sulpice and knew his flat must be on the front where Priest could see the church. A sudden movement in the window of one of the third floor flats caught her eye. And there he was, Draak Priest staring right at her.

Sam met Bryn on the stairs. When her former lover pulled her into an embrace, Bryn pushed her away. “What's wrong?” Sam asked. She was dressed for the lab in a rubber apron and men's clothing. Her heavy, black-rubber goggles were pushed up on her short hair.

Bryn dropped her gaze. “I love Quinn. I feel like I'm being unfaithful when I'm close to you.”

Sam snarled. “We've been together for three hundred years. How can you say that?”

Tears ran down Bryn's cheeks. “I don't know. I just do.”

Sam clutched her shoulders and shook her. “He's going to die! He'll grow old right before your eyes and die if you don't kill him during sex. Your love is toxic and you're completely aware of this fact.”

Bryn nodded. “I know these things but I can't help loving him. And I can't betray him. Don't ask me to.”

Sam growled deep in her throat. “This is crazy and stupid and it won't last.”

Bryn brushed the tears out of her eyes. “I'm sorry.”

“What am I supposed to do? I love you and only you, Bryn. This is torture for me.”

Bryn started up the stairs, stopped and turned around. “Please, if you love me, help me find Fenix. She's run off.”

Sam snorted. “Of course she has. You treat her like she's three years old.”

“Lend me Fingle. I need his tracking skills.”

“You know you may have his services when you need them. You don't have to ask.”

“He was your familiar. I feel as though asking you is the right thing to do.”

Sam stiffened and played with the goggles on her head. “Take care of yourself. I sense you're about to do something dangerous and no doubt crazy.”

Bryn nodded. “I will. You be careful down in the basement. No blowing us to hell.”

Sam smirked and batted her eyes. “If Quinn was at home, I might be tempted.”

“Don't hate him because of me.”

“I'll try but I won't promise. I am who I have always been.”

Bryn ran up the stairs and changed to a walking dress with a small bustle in her favorite dark purple. She buttoned her walking boots and headed for the morning room. Fingle was there dusting the shelves of the china cabinet. “I need your tracking abilities, Fingle. Sam gave her consent.”

“Yes, ma'am. Who we be chasing?”

“Draak Priest. I feel sure Fenix is trying to find him so we can either beat her to it or find her following him.”

Fingle nodded. “Are we leaving now, Miss?”

“Yes, put your dusting cloth away.”

They took a cab to
le Rouge Derriere
. The club was locked up and dark. When they descended from the cab, Fingle began to transform. His nose grew to outrageous proportions, his ears lengthened and his eyes drooped. He always slightly resembled a bloodhound, now he was more bloodhound than man. He dropped to all fours and sniffed around the front of the building. “Miss Fenix been here recently.”

Bryn followed him into the alley and behind the building. “I knew she would try to find Priest.”

Behind the club, where the police had recently vacated and the dead body had lain, Fingle sniffed and searched for a scent in a back and forth pattern that covered everything. He rose from his crouch next to Bryn. “Been a murder here. Smells it with my sniffer, I does.”

“Can you detect Priest's scent?” Fingle had tracked Priest so many times he was very familiar with the evil man's unique odor.

“He been here all right. He's the one what done the killin'. I smell his murdering rage and his…excuse me, Miss, his excitement. He like the killing and he does nasty stuff to the bodies.”

Bryn smiled grimly. “Find him, Fingle. Take me to his lair.”

Fingle set off toward the red light district, the
Pigalle,
with Bryn following as best she could. He wound through the streets, nose to the ground, ears flapping. It was still morning. People were in the streets going about their business. Old women shopped, young children played ball or rolled hoops, horse-drawn carts filled the streets as deliveries to restaurants and bars took place. Fingle wove his way between the bustling crowds, ignoring everything but the scent he was following. A dog barked at him and he growled back, the reddish-brown hair on his head standing up.

A large covered dray pulled up to the curb and Fingle turned abruptly to examine it, his nose to the ground twitching. He approached the steps into the back slowly and Bryn grew excited. Maybe Priest or Fenix hid inside. The burley driver came off his box and stared at Fingle. “What the hell is he?”

Fingle turned and barked sharply at the driver whose massive biceps were revealed beneath rolled shirt sleeves. He was exactly the kind of man Fenix liked. When Fingle put one hand on the steps and started climbing into the van, the driver raced around the side of the wagon to stop him. “Hold on, there.”

But Fingle was already inside. Bryn ran to follow and eagerly pushed past the blustering driver to look inside. Hams, the dray was filled with meat. Fingle stood in the middle turning around and staring in awe at racks of sausages. Bryn snorted with disgust. “Come on, Fingle. This is not what we're after.”

His mournful gaze met hers. “Westphalian ham,” his voice was wistful and almost a howl.

“No!” Bryn scolded. “Let's get out of here.”

“Wait a minute,” the driver yelled. “Did he touch anything?”

Bryn waved her hand over his eyes. “Forget us. We were never here.”

“You were never here,” he repeated and Bryn ran after Fingle, who galloped away, tracking once again with a string of sausages hanging out of his mouth.

He led her down several side alleys, trotted by Saint Sulpice Church, and ended up in front of a building that had been cut into small apartments. When he stood up, his mournful eyes held a question. “He lives in there. Do you want me to keep hunting him?”

“Can you scent Fenix?”

“Yes, Miss Bryn. She been here, but she weren't alone.”

“Can you tell who she was with?”

“Someone from your club. I smelt sex on her, definitely a female and older. I detected old lady scent.”

“Do you smell that on me?”

His face reflected confusion. “Should I?”

Bryn's tiny smile flashed and was gone. “I was only wondering. I can't believe it's an odor you can detect. I feel sure she was with Mistress
Chat.
She runs the club and she's both old and very sexually active.”

“Old people have a very distinctive scent.”

“That's something I never needed to know. Did she go inside?” Bryn hated to think of her sister alone in that place. She shouldn't go off on her own like this.

Fingle's tone was mournful. “Yes, she went in there.”

“Then we go, too.”

They slipped down a narrow alley and entered the building through the black door. The foyer was small and smelled of garlic, cooking oil and fried meat. Fingle sniffed around the base of the stairs and pointed with his nose. “They's gone up.”

“Both of them?”

Fingle nodded and started up the stairs on all fours sniffing each step on the way. Bryn followed with her heart in her throat. They were in Priest's lair, the lair of the Devil himself and Fenix had followed him here. She was newly reborn an adult. How could her sister be so thoughtless and cause her this much anxiety? She must know how terrified Bryn would be.

They reached the third-floor landing and Fingle sniffed his way to the flat facing the front. Bryn took Fenix's wand out and tapped the door. It flew open. Bryn stepped across the threshold and gasped. Mistress
Chat
lay on the floor in the middle of the room. Her arms were at her side and her skin was a frightening gray. Bryn rushed across the room and knelt beside her.
Chat's
breathing was shallow, her heartbeat barely detectable.