Succubus Takes Manhattan (23 page)

I found the light blue running suit I’d bought in a fit of insanity last summer when I thought I could find prey jogging through the park. That had lasted for exactly one session. There were plenty of prey in clubs where I could wear pretty clothes and where the men were actually looking for women. Girls in sweats and sneakers didn’t appeal so much, or maybe seemed too wholesome to go home on first acquaintance. In any case, I still had the outfit, white running shoes trimmed in a matching powder blue to go with the soft blue pants and zippered jacket. The clothes and the wig (with a matching blue cap pulled down over the bangs) made me entirely unrecognizable.

I didn’t even try to use makeup and besides, I didn’t have the time.

I nabbed a cab right in front of the building and then hesitated for a moment trying to remember exactly where the kidnappers had said to meet. Central Park is a big place—bigger than many small towns. There’s Sheep Meadow, where concerts are held in the summer (it wasn’t there) and the tennis courts (not there either) and the pond and the Met. I’d only seen the note for a minute and I had to reconstruct . . .

“Central Park. The Carousel.”

The Carousel was at the south end of the park. In good weather I could walk there from Barneys to celebrate spring. It’s an old-fashioned one, with horses trimmed in painted gilt and silver, an Edwardian fantasy, and it’s popular with families and dating couples alike.

The cabdriver let me off at Fifth Avenue, and I walked quickly into the park. From afar, the Carousel looked shadowy and haunted; it offered a lot of hiding places. I’d never thought of that before, on the bright spring days when nannies scolded and I’d giggled with my girlfriends and we hung on to the fantastically painted poles and ponies. I would never see it the same way again.

The Carousel stood out from the trees that were still winter bare. In a month or two everything here would be obscured with foliage, but now it was still stark and barren, the trees just raw trunks emerging from the earth, with none of the wild ferns or cultivated plantings that made the park so inviting when the weather turned warm.

I peered into the darkness and studied the shadows, but I didn’t see anyone, not the kidnappers, not Meph and Raven and Sybil either.

Where were they? Had I forgotten, or gotten it wrong? Were they over on the West Side near the Museum of Natural History? Were they hidden in the bushes where New York’s teenagers go to lose their virginity and often their wallets under the hedges? It was still too cold for the kids to be huddled making out where no one might recognize them or pickpockets working the area looking for pants and purses that have been flung aside in the abandon of adolescent passion.

Fear warmed my belly. It had been a long time since I’d been afraid, really afraid. But I was still afraid of holy water, of attacks, of these Burning Men who knew our weaknesses and wanted to make us suffer. Even more, I was afraid of being wrong, of not finding them, of being thwarted. I was afraid that they’d left me and I would be left out of the action.

Might as well check out the scene before going anywhere else, I figured, and I made my way down the long flight of steps that hugged the wall. I was careful but my heart was pounding. Not just because of what I might or might not find, but because everyone knows that a woman should not be alone in Central Park this late at night. Central Park in the night belongs to the dealers, the teenagers and lovers, and the people who prey on them. And Central Park late at night has belonged, on a few infamous occasions, to serial killers.

I may be a demon and impervious to death, but I was also a New Yorker to the bone and I knew right down to the soles of my ridiculous white Nikes that I was entering the danger zone. I pushed my hands into the pockets of the warm-up jacket, and there found a hard metal tube. I clutched it in my palm, finding the nozzle area with my thumb. Pepper spray. I’d tucked it in the pocket of the suit when I’d used it for jogging, along with a whistle.

Great. I had a whistle and pepper spray against a gang of demon hunters who were armed with holy water that burned like napalm, and probably other things besides. Possibly blessed crosses and maybe even relics. I hadn’t been close to a relic in over a hundred years.

And I was going to fight them with pepper spray? I was clearly an idiot.

Then I saw a flicker of movement, shadow in shadow, deep in the undergrowth. I heard something scuffling, something large. I held my breath and pressed myself against the cold damp stone wall.

The shadow moved again and it was large, humansized. Though what kind of human? I wanted to crouch, to hide, only there was nowhere to go without drawing attention to myself. Very slowly I slid down to the steps, holding my breath. Please please please don’t look this way, I thought. I held the pepper spray can and pulled my hand free of the pocket. Just in case.

“Miss, are you okay?”

I looked up and nearly screamed. I knew that face and . . . didn’t he recognize me? If I could fool Nathan then I could certainly fool kidnappers.

“It’s me, Nathan. Lily.”

“Lily?”

I sat up a little straighter. He was bent over me, shielding me from the view of the Carousel. “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“I should ask you the same thing,” he hissed. “And you’re obviously in some kind of disguise. So tell me why you’re here instead of safe where I left you.”

“I asked you first,” I said, petulant.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. Which I could see quite clearly in the dark, the whites shining in the starlight. “This happens to be my job. You hired me, remember. So I’m out here to see if I can observe these kidnappers and maybe follow them back to their lair. You weren’t going to do anything stupid?” He looked at me and groaned. “No, you’re already in the middle of doing something stupid. Why couldn’t you stay home? I’m a professional and we have procedures for these situations. You’re an amateur and you don’t belong here. Go home, Lily, and let the professional you’re paying take care of this.”

I shook my head stubbornly.

Well, he could have been worse. At least he hadn’t said that I was incompetent, and it was true that I wasn’t a professional. Who’d want this job anyway, slinking around in the middle of the night in the park in the cold? Bleh. But I still had too much at stake, and it was personal now.

So I told him in a whisper that hurt my throat about Meph and Raven and how they were planning to make the switch and then track Raven magically.

“I told you, I told all of you, not to do exactly this. We. Do. Not. Give. In. To. Kidnappers,” he recited as if it were the Prime Directive or something.

“This isn’t exactly your normal case,” I pointed out. “So how much time do we have?”

“Enough time for you to get in a cab and get out of here before they’re supposed to show,” he said, pulling me up.

I jerked away. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here. He’s my doorman and Raven is wearing my face and my clothes—”

“I should have known that the clothes would come into it somehow,” Nathan interjected.

I looked at him curiously. “Well, she looked totally stupid in that garbage she had on. No one would ever take her for me.”

“You’re going home,” Nathan ordered me.

He seemed to have forgotten that I didn’t take orders well. “No I’m not. I’m staying right here.”

He probably would have argued longer but I saw more movement behind him. “Shhh,” I warned him. “There’s something back there.”

“Get under cover and stay here,” he said, dragging me a few feet over to where a tree drooped close to the wall. It wasn’t much cover but it was better than nothing. Only I couldn’t see anything. So I waited until he moved into a better position and followed him.

I had to say I admired him then. He slunk from view, he merged into the few shadows of barren trees more than I thought possible.

I moved over at least fifty feet closer to where I’d seen movement. Then, aware that I was a shining beacon of pastel in the night, and that neither Nathan nor Meph wanted me there, I picked a spot that might not have had as much cover as the one where Nathan had deposited me, but where at least I could see whatever was going on. I pressed myself into the trunk of the tree and dared only peek around the side.

I couldn’t see Nathan at all. Maybe he really was that good at hiding, or maybe I just didn’t know where to look. I didn’t have time to try more carefully because a sudden movement and a crackle in the dry twigs caught my attention.

It was Meph and my friends. I could hear Desi stage-whispering, making comments about outfits that people should really not have worn. They were walking loudly and too carefully, their lovely Jimmy Choos and Louboutins not up to the terrain. Maybe Raven keeping her boots had not been such a bad idea after all.

From this distance in the night she looked so much like me that even I wasn’t sure that she wasn’t. The fake fur Betsy Johnson shrug over the thin lace blouse was probably not all that warm, but she walked as if she were walking on the runway in Milan, not through Central Park at night to be handed over to our enemies. Meph escorted her, her hand on his elbow.

They stopped and stood near the entrance, where during the summer days a bored employee takes money and tickets and opens the gate when the Carousel stops and a new round of people get on. My attention was so fixed on them that at first I didn’t even see the kidnappers approach. They were leading Vincent with a pillowcase over his head. Not even a plain white pillowcase, but one with the logo of the Mets. That was pretty low, I thought. Vincent was a Yankees fan.

They were inside the Carousel gate and came up slowly. Meph came forward to them and talked softly to the man who appeared to be the leader. Although I’d seen Craig Branford several times, in the dark and half obscured by the rest of the company, I couldn’t be sure if it was him. I hoped it was him. I would hate to think there was another one leading another group of Burning Men, though I knew that was extremely unlikely.

Or maybe it was a lieutenant; maybe Branford himself didn’t dare show up in person. Maybe he was afraid of being revealed, or maybe he didn’t want this action traced to his organization. Which was nuts since that would be the first place we’d look. But still. These self-righteous idiots don’t realize that there are some fairly intelligent residents in Hell and that some of us can figure out their idiot devices.

Finally they took the pillowcase off and showed Vincent’s face, slack and blank-eyed, as if he had been drugged. Sybil ran forward as fast as anyone could manage in four-inch heels on spongy earth and tried to talk to him. He didn’t appear to be tracking. She took his hands, which had been tied together, and tried to lead him forward. He seemed uncertain about how to make his legs work, and there was still a hand on his shoulder. I’m sure it wasn’t entirely friendly.

Meph shoved Raven/me forward, and the man who could have been Branford (but might not have been) appeared to study her. Then one of his confederates threw the pillowcase over her head, the same Mets pillowcase that had covered Vincent.

My friends began to retreat slowly. Vincent stumbled but Sybil caught him. Despite the heels, Sybil was strong enough to support him as he tried to make his way through the dark and the bare dirt path.

I turned back to look at where the kidnappers took Raven. They tied her hands first and started to lead her deeper into the Carousel area. It was hard for her to walk with her hands tied and the pillowcase over her head.

I was suddenly afraid for her.

And I tried to remind myself that the fate of some ambitious little she-demon was none of my concern. She had volunteered and she stood to gain a good bit by the bargain, and she knew it. The girl had her eye on the main event, her own advancement, and had been perfectly willing to go through with this. And she was immortal, I reminded myself.

Didn’t help. I was overcome with worry about what they would do with her.

Where could they be going, with her head covered like that? Someone would notice, certainly, and there were police around at night. In fact, I was surprised that none had come by while they had been talking.

They headed farther into the park, not toward the comfort of the avenue running above us. I followed into the dark foliage, trying not to think about the fact that I was alone at night and the park was full of muggers and murderers and rapists. So I could deliver a few, I reminded myself. I didn’t dare pay attention to that, I couldn’t afford to lose Raven and the bad guys.

Then they turned and the path meandered, but after a few twists we came out of the park onto Seventy-second Street, one of the major crosstown arteries. That had been quite a trek, and I was grateful to my disguise. At least the running shoes had made the long walk possible.

They waited for less than a minute until a cab came by and picked them up. Cabs are never that convenient. They must have set that up beforehand, or it was one of their confederates using a taxi as a getaway car. Which wasn’t a bad idea if you don’t want to get followed.

So I was alone in the park at night, deep in the middle of the danger, and not a cab in sight. Rage and frustration threatened to overcome me.

And I had better get home.

A man came out of the trees toward me. Oh no, not that too. I could not, just could
not
believe it. I could not endure being mugged on top of this horrible night.

“Didn’t I tell you to go home?” The familiar voice was weary and annoyed.

“I don’t have to do anything you tell me to do,” I reminded him.

He sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You’re right, you don’t,” he agreed, which shocked me straight off. “You never did, although I had hoped that you would take my advice since you’re paying for it.”

“You let them go, too,” I accused him. “I couldn’t follow them and you didn’t manage to follow them and now we’re both in the middle of this park and I want to get home. And I want to find Raven. I don’t know why I’m so worried about what happens to that girl.”

“I’ve got a company car here,” he said softly. “I’ll drive you home. And then we can figure out what to do.”