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  “How do you even know what she said?” I asked.

  “I can see her in the mirror, genius. Also, we talked about it on the way over here.”

  “Whatever. Anyway, she's a colleague. It would be unprofessional to try anything in the middle of an investigation.”

  Excuses, excuses. Lompolla turned back around, and we drove another ten minutes in relative silence until we got to Consolidated Auto.

  Fremel was waiting for us a couple of doors down from the main entrance to the tower. She had on a pair of those shorts that look like a skirt at first glance (very daring, for a flyer), and a loose top with baggy slits in the back that billowed with every twitch of her wings. I tried not to stare. Maybe one of us would get invited up to the Elite room after all.

  We all crammed into the elevator, and hit the button for the 40th floor, the last floor listed on the panel. “Just so we're clear, we're just poking around, looking to see what's going on behind the scene. Fremel and I will head to the upper levels, in the Aver-only areas. Sarka and Lompolla, you split up and check the lower levels. Look for any suspicious characters, undercover dealings, that sort of thing. Make contacts if you can, and we'll follow up. We're mainly looking for signs of ritual activity and blood magic.”

  “Right,” Sarka said. “And vampires.”

  “Sure, yeah, if you actually see vampires, feel free to arrest them.”

  “You should probably call me Tess,” Fremel said.

  “Tess?” I asked.

  “Short for Mantessa. You know, my first name? We're posing as a couple, after all, aren't we? Or are we not?”

  Lompolla signed something to Sarka behind my back, but I couldn't see it out of the corner of my eye. Before I could say anything else, the elevator doors opened at the 40th floor border station, and we stepped out. The whole room was mostly empty, with two lanes for traffic in and out, manned by a single border agent at this hour. A bright orange line split the room halfway, running along a two-inch step that marked the border of Korkan territory. Above the step was Demyra. Doors to the sides led to offices and supply rooms on both sides of the border. An Aver family was leaving as we were coming in, stepping through the metal detector and down the step. I flashed my Trans-Metro Pass and TMP ID card to the guard, and he waved me on around the metal detector. Lompolla followed suit, but Sarka produced a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and showed it along with his pass. The border guard gave it a cursory glance.

  “Traditionalist, huh? You here on religious business?” he asked, his tone more curious than accusing.

  “No, just pleasure,” Sarka said, stuffing the paper back in his pocket. The guard waved him through, and I think I saw Fremel raise her eyebrow with surprise.

  “He’s a Traditionalist?” she whispered. “He seemed like a nice guy.”

  “He is a nice guy,” I said.

  On the other side of the border, there wasn’t an elevator. There was just a flight shaft for the Avers, and thirteen stories of stairs for the landwalkers. Avers pride themselves on a lot of things, but accessibility laws aren't one of them. Tess walked instinctively toward the flight shaft, then turned to me with a puzzled look.

  "Aren’t you going to... Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you...?"

  "Crippled?" I asked. "Yeah. I’m taking the stairs, but you go ahead. No sense in all of us getting sweaty on the way."

  Her face twisted in embarrassment. I have that effect on people. "I didn’t... Are you sure you'll be alright?"

  "Don’t worry about it," I said. "I’m due for a lower body workout anyway."

  She looked sheepish, but disappeared up the shaft. The rest of us started up the steps.

  By the time we all got to the top, I was glad I hadn’t done legs at the gym. We were all out of breath, and I could feel a low-level stamina spell radiating off of Sarka. As the sole warm-blooded member of our trio, I was the only one sporting sweat stains around my armpits, but I figured I could pass that off as the result of a long night of dancing once I got inside.

  The door to Twenty Plus was understated and blacked out, and the soundproofing was so good, I could barely tell there was any music playing inside except for the bass that rattled the glass windows in the hallway. A single bouncer stood watch in the alcove of the door; he had a bit of muscle on him, and would have been imposing to your average wafer-thin Aver. I even caught a whiff of Ulum magic on him, probably a minor boost to his senses, which told me they had a pretty good security budget.

  He eyed me with a look somewhere between confusion and suspicion. No doubt he wondered why I took the stairs; my disability wasn't obvious at first glance, at least from the front. But then Tess stood up from the wall where she’d been leaning by the exit from the flight shaft, and stepped forward to meet us. She sidled up next to me, flashed the bouncer a smile, and said, “They're with me.” The guy nodded silently, then stepped aside from the door. I could get used to that.

  When the bouncer opened the door, the music washed over us like the stench of an Ulum fish joint’s dumpster. That, and the actual stench of sweaty bodies doused with expensive cologne. I hadn’t been the most hip guy back at university, but at least I could understand the music back then. Lompolla’s face dripped with disapproval as well, but Sarka nodded his head in time with the bone-deep beat.

  “What in the world is this?” I asked.

  “Gollingian Nu-Fresh,” Sarka answered, shouting back over the music.

  “I barely survived the old Fresh,” I said.

  “Are you kidding?” Sarka said. “I love this group!”

  “That’s great, Sarka,” I said. “Let's get to work.”

  Sarka and Lompolla split off to do their own investigating, while Tess wandered up to the upper levels where the beautiful “people” were. Avers buzzed overhead, dancing in midair and zipping back and forth between the dance “floor” and the bars, some of which were mounted halfway up the wall where you had to fly up to order a drink. There was at least one on each level, and two or three on the upper two levels, each with their own distinctive decorations and menu. Instead of the club selling drinks itself, it just rented out the bar space to independent tenders or companies, subcontracting out the day-to-day variation of sales in favor of a steady flat fee. It also had the side effect of allowing easy deniability if any of them got caught dealing in illegal goods; the establishment just had to kick out the offending renter, promise to improve their screening process, then clue in the next guy on how to keep from getting caught.

  I sidled up to one of the ground-level bars that didn’t look too busy. The only other patrons leaned nearby with their back to the wall, watching the crowds and bobbing their heads to the music as they sipped expensive cocktails. The girl on the other side of the counter was short, young but a tad on the pudgy side, with a sleeveless top and an eye-patch on the right side of her face.

  “What can I get you?” she asked.

  Signal that you have money, I thought to myself. Let her think you’re worth letting in with the big birds. “I think I’m in the mood for a mead,” I replied. “Do you carry Andol Farms here?”

  She nodded, and poured out an amber draught and slid it over to me. Good start. Now build up a rapport; let her know she can trust you. “That eye-patch, is it for real?”

  The bartender flipped the patch up, just for a second, but enough to give me a glimpse of the scarred cavity where her eye should have been. “Satisfied?”

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have pried. I get the same kind of questions about my wings.”

  She angled her head up a bit, trying to peek over my shoulder, so I twisted to give her a better view. “Damn,” she said. “Can you still fly on those things?”

  I shook my head. She bit her lip, and I could tell she was hungry for details. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” I said.

  She gave me half a smile, then nodded her head. “You first, though.”

  “I was born like this. I probably spent half my childhood in the doctor’s office, getting poked and prodded and studied. My parents spent their life savings on specialists until they were broke, then sent me off to a Rilli boarding school so I wouldn’t interfere with their lifestyle.”

  “Not bad,” she said. “My turn? I had a car crash a few years ago, and a piece of the windshield took out my eye. Healers that can repair an eye are expensive, and the insurance company dragged its feet on my claim until the scarring was bad enough it didn’t matter. I sued and lost, and in the process spent so much on legal fees that I couldn’t afford to stay in university. I had to drop out of law school with one year left, so now I tend bar.”

  I sipped my drink, which was decent, but not worth the money, while she broke off to tend to some other customers. When she came back, she asked, “So who wins?”

  “I’ll call it a draw,” I said with a smile. “My name’s Reylic, by the way.”

  She nodded at me. “Alli,” she replied.

  Go in for the kill, I thought. “So Alli, I’m new to the area, but I heard that Twenty Plus is the place to go for people with… refined tastes.”

  “If you want high-end wine and stuff like that, you’ll have to try one of the bars upstairs.”

  “I don’t mean wine,” I said. “I’m looking for something, well, darker.”

  Alli rolled her eye, then planted her hands on the counter and leaned in. “Look, I run a clean bar here. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I don’t have it.”

  “But you know where I can get it right? Just between us?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” she said.

  “How come?” I asked.

  “Because the last thing I need is Narcotics Division confiscating my bar license.”

  “Narcotics?” Apparently she didn’t quit
e catch what I was going for.

  “Yeah, if you’re a cop or informant, I lose my job if I aid you in buying contraband chemicals.”

  “What do you want, like an introduction fee or something? I can do that.”

  She paused for a moment and creased her brow in thought. I caught the faintest whiff of magic whiz over my head, brief and indistinct, but resisted the urge to immediately turn and see what it was. I didn’t like to tip people off about what I noticed. “Whatever you’re after,” Alli said, “I can’t help you. Even if I knew anything, I can’t afford to lose my job.”

  “Of course. Thanks for your time.” I turned and scanned the room behind me. The spell had been pointed upstairs, and while the direction was hard to pinpoint, it wasn’t hard to figure out it was directed at the Elite room, where all the management and big spenders partied in private. It was impossible to tell whether she had alerted them that cops were poking around, or that a buyer was interested. Hopefully the latter, but I wasn’t optimistic.

  I pushed off from the bar and weaved my way through the dancing crowd on the lower level. A steep set of stairs led up to a second level, then a third. At each level, the music grew quieter, the girls prettier, and the drinks fancier. Toward the back wall was a final set of stairs with a drab-looking door set deep into an alcove, with a single dim-eyed thug guarding it.

  The trick with these sorts of things is confidence. I stepped boldly up the stairs, up to the door, and reached for the knob without acknowledging the guard.

  He reached out and grabbed my wrist. OK, sometimes there’s more than one trick. “Who invited you?” he asked, more of a snide dismissal than an actual question.

  “I know the owner,” I said, trying to match his contempt.

  “Yeah? What’s his name?”

  “Come on. Anybody who knows his name knows not to use it.”

  The guard screwed up his face in confusion. Apparently it wasn’t that kind of trick question. “Get lost.”

  When I was halfway back down the steps, I heard girlish giggling over the throbbing bass coming from down below. Mantessa came around the corner, hanging on the arm of some pretty-boy club kid who wore a suit that looked like it cost as much as my apartment, and was just as snug. When she spotted me, her eyes widened for a second, then she turned to implore her… acquaintance as they climbed the steps.

  “Oh Mel, that’s my cousin Reylic. I promised his mother I’d watch out for him tonight. He won’t bother anyone if he comes in with us, right? I’d really, really appreciate it.” She dragged her finger across his chest in a languid way that seemed at once both absentminded and incredibly intentional.

  Mel looked at her, then at me, then again at her, and sighed. He walked on up the steps, then muttered to me as he got closer. “Just keep your mouth shut, keep your hands to yourself, and don’t embarrass me, alright?” I nodded eagerly, and followed the two of them up the stairs and through the door, giving my best triumphant smile to the guard. Who needs a password when you’ve got a pretty woman on your side?

  When the door closed, it was like we were in a whole different building. The soundproofing blocked out any trace of the dance music from downstairs, which let the delicate strings and flutes of some classical piece suffuse the air. Apparently, the raucous club scene was just for the masses; the real party was classy. A half-dozen doors led to smaller rooms, which were no doubt full of various forms of debauchery.

  The crowd in here was a bit more diverse as well; it was still mostly rich-looking young Avers lounging on couches with expensive-looking women draped over them, but a middle-aged Kakla matriarch was tucked into a back corner with a pair of lithe young Aver men stroking her flat chest, and a pair of older Rilli men glanced up from what looked like a business discussion. Another Rilli manned the bar, which positively bristled with some very fine wines. No obvious sign of ritual activity though. Or vampirism.

  One man in particular pushed his girl away and sat up straight on his blue velvet couch. He looked a bit older, thicker, and well-refined than the others, and carried an air of authority. He pointed right at me. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.

  I gave him a sheepish shrug. “I was invited.”

  Mel piped up from behind us. “It’s cool, man. He’s with her.” He gestured with his head toward Mantessa, and his eyes had that don’t-mess-this-up-for-me look.

  “I hear you’ve been asking a lot of questions,” the other man said. “The kind of questions that can get a guy in trouble.” He nodded toward the bartender, whose arm moved almost imperceptibly under the counter, and I felt the background magic from outside the room disappear. EMM shielding. If Mantessa had any clever ideas about sending messages for help, or teleporting us out if she had the talent, they were no good now. On the other hand, I could now make out the subtle illusions that peppered the room, which the people here probably used to touch up unsightly blemishes and look a bit younger than they had any right to.

  “Hey, trouble isn’t what I’m looking for,” I said. “I was just hoping to score while I was here.”

  “Come on,” Mantessa said. “He didn’t mean any harm.”

  “Search him,” the man said. One of the more muscular Avers stepped forward and patted my pockets, and it didn’t take long for him to find my police ID in my jacket pocket and hand it over. They took a bit longer on Mantessa.

  “Cops. No listening device, though.”

  “Well officers, what are you looking for?” the boss asked. “I can assure you nothing illegal is going on up here, but of course I can’t let you verify that without a warrant. Since you were snooping around, I assume you don’t have one.”

  “Afraid not,” I said with a shrug. “And I’m sure by the time I do, you’ll have cleared out whatever you’re keeping behind that secret panel over there.” I pointed at a spot on the wall next to the balcony door, and the older man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. I turned and smirked at Mantessa. “It’s an obscure trick, and you have to know what you’re looking for, but it’s great for making things disappear. Normally, illusions don’t-“

  I heard three clicks from three different guns in three different directions. “You’re right,” the man said as he leveled a pistol at me, equipped with a silencer. “I’m very thorough about making things disappear.”

  See? This is what happens when I try to impress women.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Generally, it’s a bad idea to pull a gun on a cop. Like, a really bad idea. We tend to carry grudges about that sort of thing. It’s not the kind of response that you can change your mind and have a good laugh about later. So the only reasons to hesitate when you pull a gun on some cops, rather than shooting immediately, is if you think you can turn them and get them on your payroll, or you don’t want them to bleed all over your expensive carpet. And I didn’t see anyone reaching for their wallet.

  “It looks like you’re too clever for your own good, Agent Antali and Detective Fremel,” the man said from behind his gun. “This room has been searched a dozen times, and no one has ever found that panel.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “You can call me Mr. Martel,” the man said. “If you like. I run this establishment.”

  “You’re gonna burn for this, Martel,” Mantessa said. “You think you can walk away from two missing cops without a mark to show for it?”

  Martel shrugged. “I’ve got a nice little summer home on an island up North. I can be there before anyone notices you’re gone.” I admit that surprised me a little bit. If he was willing to bug out so quickly, then whatever he was hiding must have been awfully damning.

  “Look, Martel, you’re a businessman, right?” I asked. “Let’s make a deal, then. You let us go, and we didn’t see anything. For a reasonable stipend, I make sure nobody else is as observant as me.”

  “Tempting,” Martel said. “But bullets are cheaper.” I saw the twitch in his face as his attention shifted from talking to aiming, so I took the opportunity to lunge at him.

  My left hand swiped at the gun, pushing it down toward the ground where a reflexive shot left a hole in the carpet, and my hand clamped down on the slide, preventing it from chambering another round. At the same time I stepped forward, getting as close as possible, and grabbed at his throat with my right hand. He didn’t cooperate, and I got his shoulder instead, but at least I was close enough that no henchman worth his pay would take a shot at me.