The Devil Is a Gentleman (4 page)

I looked at the cover. It was one of the textbooks. “Paranormal Theory,” I read. The chapter was titled, “Paranormal Theories as Pertaining to the Evolution of Humans.” I read on:

The epidemic of paranormal abilities in humans has confounded researchers for decades. Despite the assumption that the powers would dissipate with each generation, the anomaly has persisted and, indeed, grown stronger. While it is certain that an unknown, and possibly teratogenic, compound caused the DNA of certain individuals to mutate, it is not known exactly what this compound contains nor why it has this effect. Assuming that the epidemic will continue, the latest studies extrapolate from publicly-available data to offer a range of models describing how quickly the so-called Abnormals will far outnumber the Normals. Some of these models are based on the displacement of other hominid groups by Homo sapiens.

Many theories about the origin of the epidemic have been proposed, most of which have been discounted. The most ludicrous of these is a theory proposed by Fritz Wilhelm, the Paranormal Psychologist. He claims that the “Abnormal Epidemic” is a result of an agent seeping into Earth’s atmosphere from another world.

I looked at Gage again.

“Sis, you gotta stop letting your mouth hang open like that. You’ll swallow a fly.”

“This is incredible,” I said. “Why don’t our scientists know about this?”

“What, the Normals?” he laughed. “They work for New Government, everyone knows that. They don’t want to know. If they did, they’d probably just end up on the Registry themselves.”

“You’re right,” I said.

What kind of a world did we live in? Anyone who opposed New Government was blacklisted, and everyone played along with the lie. It was ridiculous. I pushed my hair out of my face. It was hard to believe all this stuff, though I knew it was true. I’d always seen the ghosts, ever since I was little. So it hadn’t seemed strange to me to learn there were others. Sofi had visions. My own father was a Summoner. Gage was a Caster. We were everywhere. It seemed like practically everyone these days had some sort of power. The only Normals left were government officials. New Government had been able to take over because they played on the fear of people like me. Afraid of what we could do.

And then there was Frank Bradley. Our state had been the first to institute the Registry thanks to him, but all the other states had quickly followed. But seeing him change had been terrifying, and made me think. Was that how Normals saw Abbies? For the first time, I began to understand what people were so afraid of.

“More coffee?” I said.

“Sure.”

I grabbed the pot and topped off our cups until they were steaming again. “Find anything yet?” I said.

“Not really,” he said. “Found a mention of angelwine a while ago, but just speculation and guessing. One guy said it was a type of heroin in the sixties, named after the urban legend. No one thinks it’s real.”

“But we know it is,” I said.

“If there’s nothing in the books about it, is there someone we can ask? Someone who knows?”

“Well,” said Gage, “you know the first person that comes to mind.”

“Sam,” I said. “But the bar’s gone again. Sasha might know, but he’s busy traipsing around Hell.”

“What about the other guy?” he said. “Your uncle.”

“Naz isn’t really my uncle,” I said. “Sasha just told me to call him that when I was little.”

“Naz might know something,” said Gage.

“Maybe we should start simple,” I said. “Instead of focusing on the angelwine, let’s focus on Bradley.”

“The cops lost him. I saw the trail of blood down the hall and all the way out to the sidewalk, but it stops at the curb. Maybe he got into a car.”

“He has a wife, right?”

“Pretty little thing with black hair,” he said. “I saw her on the news, standing behind her man. Think she’d help us?”

“Maybe not, but it’s worth a shot,” I said. “If nothing else, she might give something away when she’s yelling at us.”

“But how do we find out where Bradley lives?” said Gage. “It’s not exactly my scene, and I’m pretty sure it ain’t yours either.”

I shrugged. “Public record, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think either one of us feel all warm and fuzzy at the thought of walking into a New Government office building.”

“City Hall,” I corrected. “Besides, all I gotta do is make a phone call.”

“You and your cop friends,” said Gage.

“He’s a police chief,” I said. “He’s a nice guy, you should give him a chance.”

“Ron Smithy is the strong arm for New Government,” said Gage. “I’ll give him a chance when he stop arresting people for no good reason.”

“Eli was a cop too,” I said. “And you seem to like him just fine.”

“That’s different. He’s a Halfer. And there ain’t no way he’s gonna be a cop now. Those horns are just gonna get bigger and bigger.”

I frowned. I didn’t want to think about Eli right now. I took my phone out of my pocket and dialed Ron’s number.

“Ron, I need a favor,” I said when he answered.

“Niki?” he said.

“I need an address. It’s kind of important. Life and death.”

“I’d love to help you, Nik,” he said, “but something’s come up here.” I could hear phones ringing, people shouting, and a television blaring in the background.

“It’s important. About a politician.” He was silent and I thought he’d hung up. “Ron? Are you there?”

“I’m here,” he said. The line got quieter, like he’d moved to a different room. His voice echoed. “This wouldn’t be about Frank Bradley again, would it?”

“Yes,” I said. “It would.”

“You shouldn’t be involved in this, Niki. It’s getting deep.”

“What’s getting deep?” I said.

“You already shot the guy. Best you stay away from it, kid.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Ron?”

“You don’t know? Jesus. Just turn on the news, Niki.”

I walked to the living room and switched on the television. A man was standing at a podium in front of an American flag. He had shocking white hair and a face that was pasty-gray it was so pale. His eyes were vaguely reptilian. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t immediately place him.

“I know that there has been talk about Congressman Bradley lately,” the man was saying in a clipped British accent, “and I will address those rumors when we know more about this. All I can say is that the congressman is missing. His companion, a Miss Gina Halsted, has been found brutally murdered.” There were shocked gasps and whispers from the press and a series of flashes from photographers. The man held up his hands for silence. Gage came to stand beside me. “We cannot speculate at this time on what exactly happened to Congressman Bradley. What I can tell you is that I shall be taking his place until we can clear up this matter.”

“Why’s he want to take Bradley’s place?” said Gage. “Goddamn Brit. I miss the old days when you had to be an American.”

“Do you know him?” I said.

“I know
of
him,” said Gage. “That’s Hal Dorrance, the bank guy. Richer than God, or so they say. Can’t imagine God’s as interested in money as this guy, though.”

Dorrance was stepping down from the podium, his mouth shaped into a smile as he waved to the crowd. I remembered the phone in my hand. “Ron, you still there?”

“I’m here,” he said. He was back in the noise again. “You watch it?”

“Yeah,” I said, “but I don’t understand.”

“The guy you shot, Frank Bradley? He’s wanted for murder. If he’s not dead already.”

“For the mistress, Gina?” I said.

“Yeah, but that’s the thing,” he said. I heard a click and the background was silent again. “By the time we got there, there was nothing there. Not a trace of the girl, it was like she hadn’t even lived there. Just the smell of bleach. All her things were gone, everything. But then we get this bulletin saying Frank Bradley killed her. I don’t know, Nik. I think it’s time I gave this job up.”

“You can’t do that,” I said. “You’re the only good one left.”

“Any word from Eli?” he said.

“No.”

“Shame. I could use him on my side.”

“So, what about the English guy?” I said, trying to change the subject.

“What about him?”

“Well, he’s supposed to be some sort of big-time bank CEO, right?” Gage nodded at me.

“Right,” said Ron.

“Well, what’s he want with Bradley’s job?”

Ron laughed drily. “What do any of those guys want?” he said. “Everybody wants to run the world. Look, I don’t want you in this, okay? I know you’re going to want to follow up, but please don’t. I’m already catching enough shit, and we’ve got this new commissioner.”

“Ron, I promise to stay out of trouble,” I said. “But I’m gonna need that address. I have to talk to Bradley’s wife. I think she might be in trouble.”

“Let us handle Olivia Bradley,” said Ron.

“You can’t protect her,” I said. “But we can. You know we can get her out. If Bradley’s still alive, he’s going to come back for her. And like I told you before, there’s things about that guy that didn’t make it into the report.”

I heard Ron breathing for a few moments. Finally he sighed. “You didn’t get this from me, okay?”

“Fine.”

“Promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” I said.

“Stay alive, okay? Something funny about all this.”

It was dusk when we left my apartment. Gage had parked right in front of the building, and I was able to dash into the passenger seat before any of the ghosts noticed me. It seemed like there were even more of them. Gage started the car.

“You weren’t kidding about these ghosts,” he said. “Even I can feel them.”

“There’s more of them every day,” I said, looking out my window at them.

“Why do you suppose they’re here?” he said. “I mean all of them, not just on your street. Why aren’t they passing on?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Sam keeps talking about a war. I wonder if that has something to do with it. I’ve barely left my apartment the past few weeks.”

Bradley lived in the old part of the city, near Lancaster Avenue. “You know your way around?” I said. “You got lost going to Nora Delaney’s house that last time, remember?” I flinched slightly. The thought of the mayor with her heart ripped out still plagued my dreams.

“Been practicing,” said Gage. “Know this city like the back of my hand now.”

We pulled up to an obscenely large house, even by the neighborhood standards. It was bright white and clean. Even the grass seemed cleaner and shorter than the neighbors’. It was as well-cared for as a golf course. Even in the waning light it was apparent that these people had money. A lot of money. Lights seemed to be on in every part of the house, lighting up the copious front lawn.

I rang the bell and heard the deep barking of a dog muffled behind the thick door. I half-expected a butler in tails and a bow tie to answer, like in the old black-and-white movies, but instead it was a woman in a T-shirt and fitted jeans. I recognized her from T.V., although her short black hair was mussed instead of combed down and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She was very attractive all the same. She was holding a Rottweiler by its thick collar, the dog looking more liable to lick us to death than attack. In her other hand she held a large glass of red wine.

“Mrs. Bradley?” I said.

She narrowed her eyes at me and then Gage. She looked back at me. “I know you,” she said. “You’re that detective woman. Slobodian. Your father’s famous.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Bet you get that a lot,” she said. She was examining me. “Ever get tired of it?”

“You have no idea,” I said.

“I think I probably do,” she said. “I’m married to a politician.”

“Right. I’m sorry,” I said. “Can we speak to you about your husband?”

She sighed. “If it’s blackmail again, no. I don’t give a shit what my husband’s done. Go find him and try to get money out of him. I’m done with it all.”

“It’s not blackmail,” I said.

“Then come in, but I don’t have long. I’m headed out.”

We entered the hall facing a wide, sweeping staircase, and followed Mrs. Bradley through a gigantic parlor and down a hall. The dog loped along beside her, his tongue lolling. She opened a door on the left and we entered a room that wasn’t a whole lot different from my own living room: An old, worn-looking couch covered with a crocheted afghan; a few overstuffed chairs; and a scratched coffee table. There were some expensive paintings on the wall, but between these were old posters for rock concerts in plastic frames.

“I don’t really spend a lot of time in the rest of the house,” she said, settling herself into a chair and tucking her legs under her.

“Looks like an apartment I had in college,” said Gage, plopping down on the couch. I followed, sitting next to him.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she said. She was still eying us coldly.

“No thanks,” I said. “This is a lovely house.”