Industrial Magic

Hotel Shopping



BY EVENING WE’D CHECKED OUT NEARLY HALF THE HOTELS in Miami as we’d searched for one with a view that matched what Faye had seen outside Edward’s window. We’d started by targeting those hotels with rack rates of a hundred dollars. Tougher than it might sound. It was a nice, even number, and many hotels had at least a few rooms at that rate.

When we first left Faye, we’d called Jaime, who’d offered to split the phone-book list with us. After we found a few possibilities, Jaime suggested she and Cassandra take over the phone calls while we did the footwork. A wise arrangement, except that Jaime and Cassandra found so many hotels with rooms at a hundred dollars that we couldn’t begin to keep up.

At eight, Jaime called.

“We’re still working on the last batch,” I said when I answered.

“That’s what I figured. I’m calling to say we’re holding the rest of the list hostage. You guys have been at it for six hours, and I know you haven’t eaten dinner. Probably skipped lunch, too.”

“We just need to—”

“No. Seriously, Paige. Time to call it a day. Better to quit now, get food, get sleep, and get cracking again at daybreak.”

As much as I hated to quit, this did make sense. With night falling, we could barely make out the buildings surrounding the hotels. I relayed the advice to Lucas, who agreed.

“Good,” Jaime said when I told her. “There’s a bar down the road here, advertises full-kitchen service until midnight. I’ll meet you there in half an hour. If you keep working, you’ll keep me waiting. I can cause a lot of trouble left alone in a bar. Remember that.”



We did keep Jaime waiting fifteen minutes, but only because Lucas had another idea that he wanted to pursue immediately. The Cabal had satellite photos of Miami. Maybe with those we’d have more luck picking out the configuration of buildings Faye had described. Cortez headquarters was on the way, so we stopped by, and had copies of the photos in less than twenty minutes.

Despite her threat, Jaime hadn’t caused any trouble at the bar. She wasn’t alone, either. When I noticed a figure across the table from her, I immediately thought male, then noticed that it was Cassandra. The three of us ordered dinner, while Cassandra nursed her wine.

Jaime had managed to bully Lucas into not examining the photos while we ate, but the moment the plates left the table, he had them out. I tried helping, but we only had one magnifying glass, and the details were too small to see with the naked eye, so I let Jaime talk me into a post-dinner drink.

Halfway through the drinks, Cassandra got off a“celebrity necro” jab at Jaime, who responded by bringing up her favorite issue.

“I’m not dead,” Cassandra said, barely ungritting her teeth enough to let the words out.

“Care to test that theory? Let’s say you find a guy lying on the ground, and you’re not sure if he’s dead or alive. How do you tell? Three ways. Heartbeat, pulse, breathing. Here, Cass, give me your wrist, let me check your pulse.”

Cassandra glared and sipped her wine.

“Not seeing any condensation on that glass, Cass. Something tells me you’re not breathing.”

Cassandra’s glass rapped against the tabletop. “I’m not dead.”

“Geez, you sound like that Monty Python skit. You guys ever see that one? They’re cleaning up the plague victims and one keeps saying: ‘I’m not dead yet.’ Sounds just like you, Cassandra. Well, except he had a British accent.” Jaime sipped her drink. “Anyway, I don’t see what the big deal is. You look like you’re alive. Now zombies, there’s a nasty afterlife.”

“Speaking of zombies,” I began, eager to segue off this subject. “I heard some necro in Hollywood raised a real one for that movie, oh, what was it called—”

“Night of the Living Dead?” Lucas said.

His leg brushed mine under the table. Last spring we’d tried to overcome a hellish day by watching that movie, before moving on to better methods of distraction. Our first night together. Our eyes met and we both grinned, then Lucas returned to his work.

“No, not that one,” I said. “Something recent.”

“I heard the rumor,” Jaime said. “Makes a good story, but it’s not true. The only living dead in Hollywood is Clint Eastwood.”

I sputtered my drink. Jaime patted my back and laughed.

“Oh, I’m kidding. But he kinda looks it, don’t you think? The man has not aged well.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Cassandra murmured.

“Well, I would,” Jaime said. “And what I want to know is why, in every goddamned movie, he gets paired up with some hot little number a quarter his age.”

“Jealous?” Cassandra said.

Jaime snorted. “Yeah, like I want to walk around with an eighteen-year-old guy on my arm. Nothing wrong with having fun, but you gotta keep your dignity. My rule: no guys more than a decade older or five years younger. The whole cougar thing is so…” She shuddered and pulled a face.

“Cougar?” Lucas said, glancing up from his photos.

“Women who date significantly younger men,” I said.

“Why are you looking at me, Paige?” Cassandra said.

“I wasn’t—”

“I can hardly date men my own age, can I?” Cassandra added.

Jaime laughed. “Got a point there, Cass. How old were you when you die—changed? About my age, I’ll bet.”

“Forty-five.”

Jaime nodded. “If I could stop aging at some point, it’d be here. I know, most women—hell, most people—they’d go for their twenties, maybe thirties, but I like forty. Got the experience under your belt, but the body is still in perfect working order. A damn fine age for a woman.” She lifted her glass. “Take that, Clint.”

We ordered another round of drinks, talked a bit longer, then headed back to the hotel.



On the plane we’d agreed to meet Benicio for breakfast the next day, to share progress on the case. Now that we had a solid lead, we hated to waste time on something as trivial as eating. Yet when Lucas suggested that we needed to start our day early, Benicio offered to meet us at our hotel for breakfast at six, and keep his visit short. Not much we could say about that.

When we got to the restaurant, Troy slipped in ahead of us. He cornered the hostess, murmured something, and passed her a folded bill. A minute later, the hostess returned and escorted us to the patio. Our table was in the far corner. The three closest tables sported RESERVED tent cards. I supposed that was what the extra tip was for, guaranteeing our privacy. Since the restaurant was almost empty at this hour, it was a request easily accommodated. Troy and Morris took the next nearest table.

After we ordered our meal, I asked Benicio about hiring a witch nurse for Faye.

“A calming spell, hmm?” he said, unfolding his napkin. “Never could get that one to work myself. Do you think it would help the other residents as well?”

I hesitated, not because I wasn’t ready with an answer, but because the thought of Benicio Cortez practicing witch magic…well, it was enough to render even me momentarily speechless.

“Er, yes,” I said. “I think it would. That’s just an educated guess, of course. You’d have to test it on the others.”

He nodded. “I’ll hire a witch part-time for Faye then, and if she can help the others, we’ll make it a full-time position. Now, my contacts in the witch community are, as you might guess, quite poor. We’ll discuss this later, but I may need your help finding someone qualified—”

“I’m sure you can do so without Paige’s assistance, Papá,” Lucas said. “Witches apply for Cabal positions all the time. Human resources should be able to provide all the contact names you need.”

“Perhaps, but if I have any questions, Paige, may I call you?”

I glanced at Lucas, who gave a soft sigh, then the barest nod.

“If it means getting a good witch nurse for Faye, you can call me,” I said.

Benicio opened his mouth with what I was sure was another “request,” but was diverted by the arrival of our coffee. We spent the next minute in silence, each fixing our drinks.

“So, Paige,” Benicio said after his first sip of coffee. “How do you like Miami?”

A new topic. Thank God. I relaxed into my chair. “Can’t say I’ve had much time for sightseeing, but I’ve certainly enjoyed the sunshine.”

“Miami has its charms, though the pace isn’t to everyone’s taste. Nor the violence. Before you go, Lucas, you should take Paige for a drive, show her where you grew up.” He turned to me. “It’s a beautiful area. A fraction of Miami’s crime rate, the safest streets in Florida, an excellent school system—”

“Any news regarding the case?” Lucas asked.

There wasn’t. We told Benicio that we were pursuing a lead, but he didn’t press for details, only offered us full use of the Cabal resources, should we need them. We spent the rest of breakfast discussing what the Cabals were doing to find Edward. The Nasts, as we’d expected, had been searching for him since Friday. Unfortunately, they hadn’t found any clues…or any they cared to share.

As we neared the end of the meal, Benicio said, “As I was saying earlier, Lucas should take you on a tour of the area. Now, I know, I have a vested interest in wanting my son living closer than Oregon, but there is Savannah to consider. You’ve already had one bad experience keeping custody of her and, although you handled that very well, it was the second attempt, was it not?”

“Second attempt, but same person…who is not going to be making any more.”

“Maybe so, but now the news of Savannah’s desirability has spread across the supernatural world. You must consider that—”

“Both Paige and Savannah are quite happy with Portland,” Lucas said.

“I understand, but before you put down permanent roots, you must give the matter serious thought. You don’t want to buy a house in Portland only to realize six months from now that it’s unsafe for Savannah.”

“I know that,” I said. “Which is why I’m not house-shopping until we’ve been there a year.”

“Oh?” Benicio frowned. “I thought you had a house picked out. Lucas said…” His voice trailed off as he saw my look of confusion. “Oh, I see he hasn’t mentioned it.”

“No, I had not,” Lucas said, his voice tight. “But thank you for doing so for me.” He turned to me and lowered his voice. “I’ll explain later.”

We finished the meal in silence.



“What house?” I said before the hotel room door closed behind us.

“I believe I mentioned a potential arrangement with my last client, who, feeling indebted—”

“What house?” I said, throwing my purse onto the sofa. “The condensed version.”

“You’re understandably upset—”

“Hell, yes, I’m upset. You’re making long-term plans for us and I have to hear it from your father?”

“It’s not as it sounds. When he first called me in Chicago, he wanted to talk about our apartment. He didn’t think it was right, me expecting you and Savannah to live there because I refuse to dip into my trust fund. I told him the apartment was short-term. He wouldn’t listen, so I said that I had a lead on a house in Portland.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We haven’t discussed this, Lucas.” I thumped down onto the couch and rubbed my temples. “If this was meant to be a surprise—”

“No, certainly not. I would never presume anything like that. Once this was over, I planned to show you the house and, if you liked it, then it would be yours to take at the offered price, whether you chose to share it with me or not.”

“Whether I chose—? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He sat on the couch beside me, close but not touching. “I would have mentioned it, but I wanted to get through this first. It seemed unfair to discuss long-term plans now, when you were getting your first glimpse of what a life with me might entail—the…familial issues.”

“So, you think I’m going to turn tail and run?”

He managed a wry smile. “I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

“No, I’m serious. Is that really what you think? That I care so little for you that I’d—” I shifted down the couch, away from him. “I knew all about your ‘familial issues’ when we got together, Lucas.”

“Yes, but you may have been unprepared for the impact it could have on our lives. I would completely understand—”

“Would you?” I said, springing to my feet. “You’d understand if I walked out the door? Said ‘Sorry, not for me’? Just like you’d understand if you showed me this house and I said, ‘I’ll take it…now where are you going to live?’”

“I don’t want to pressure you, Paige. Of course, I don’t want you to leave, and, yes, I want to get this house with you, but if that’s not what you want—” He reached for my arm, but I yanked it back.

“You have no idea how I feel about you, do you?”

When he hesitated, I strode to the door. Then I paused, hand on the knob. I couldn’t do this. Not now.

“Come on,” I said. “We have work to do.”



The Cabal photos of Miami had given Lucas a half-dozen possible hotels, which we now needed to check. As for our spat, neither of us mentioned it, though the heavy silence in the car said we were both thinking about it. As much as I wanted to resolve the problem and get past it, I told myself it was better to ignore it for now. Plenty of time to fix things later.

On the fourth possibility, we found a match. A five-story mid-price hotel, with a southern view that matched Faye’s description.

We were walking up the side alley, heading for the front of the building, when Lucas’s cell phone rang.

“That was Oscar,” he said when he hung up. “Faye’s awake and very upset. All he can make out is that she wants to see me—immediately.”

“Damn,” I said.

“If she has new information on the case, it almost certainly relates to Edward’s whereabouts, which we’ve probably found, rendering her information welcome but potentially unnecessary. At this point—” He looked up at the hotel. “I’m loath to walk away, however briefly, from the best lead we’ve had.”

“I could go talk to Faye,” I said. “But if Edward’s in this hotel, I’d rather back you up.”

“And I’d rather have you backing me up.”

“What about sending Jaime? She’s good with people, and it sounds like she’s had some experience with Faye’s type of condition, with her grandmother.”

“Good idea.”

Lucas called. Jaime was still in bed, but once she had woken up enough to understand what he was asking, she agreed to speak to Faye. If it was important, she’d call me back. So Lucas turned off his phone, I switched mine to vibrate, and we headed into the hotel.



“Sure, yeah,” the young desk clerk said, head bobbing as he looked at the photo Lucas held. “Room three-seventeen. That’s him.”

“He’s still checked in?”

“Right.”

“Has he gone out yet this morning?”

“Not this way.” He checked his watch. “And not this early. He usually heads out around noon, comes back after my shift.”

Lucas wrote down a phone number. “If he comes down, wait until he’s gone, then call this number. But only after he’s left. Don’t do anything to make him suspicious.”

“Sure.” The young man’s head bobbed. “Okay. Sure.”



Lucas strode through the front doors, face grim.

“Time to call the SWAT team?” I said.

“I’m afraid we have more immediate concerns. Right now that clerk is on the phone to Edward, warning him we’re here.”

“What?”

Lucas rounded the building corner, walking so fast I had to jog to keep up. “I introduced us as NSA, told him we needed to find this man immediately. The first thing he should think, given the current climate, is ‘terrorist.’ But he doesn’t ask any questions, even after I tell him not to raise the man’s suspicions, implying he’s dangerous. He tells us what we want to know and gets us out of there fast so he can call Edward, collect whatever reward Edward offered for warning him.”

“And once Edward gets that call, he’ll grab his things and bail.”

“Precisely. Now—” He stopped halfway between the front of the hotel and the side door. “I want you to stand here. Cast a cover spell. If he comes out, don’t do anything. Let him go, but watch where he heads, then get me. I’ll be around back watching that door.”

I nodded, but Lucas had already broken into a jog, heading toward the rear. I stood against the wall opposite the hotel, and hid behind a cover spell.

Less than two minutes later, the side door opened. A man stepped out. He wore a baggy windbreaker, sweat-pants, sunglasses, and a ball cap pulled low, but none of that left any question that it was the man from the photograph: Edward.

Edward stepped out from behind the door and looked both ways. When his gaze passed over me, I resisted the urge to hold my breath, and concentrated instead on staying perfectly still. He eased the door shut. Then he lowered his backpack to the ground, bent, and opened it. As he crouched there, I couldn’t help thinking how easy it would be to trap him in a binding spell. All I needed to do was break cover for a second and—

Edward pulled a gun from the knapsack and my idea died mid-thought.

He fiddled with the gun, then tucked it into the pocket of his windbreaker, hoisted his knapsack onto his back, and headed toward the rear of the building. Damn it! If only Lucas and I had practiced my long-range communication spell more, I could warn him. He’d be hiding, but not under a cover spell, since his cast wasn’t reliable yet. I reassured myself that Lucas knew better than to pop out of hiding the moment he heard someone. Not that he’d even hear Edward. The man walked across the gravel like it was a foam cushion, not so much as rattling a stone underfoot. He stuck to the shadows, glancing over his shoulder with every few steps. Right before he reached the back of the building, he turned left and seemed to walk right through the wall I stood against.

I counted to three, then broke cover and leaned out to see an adjoining alley farther down. I took one slow step. The crunch of gravel under my feet resounded like thunder. I quickly recast my cover, but Edward didn’t return. Again, I broke cover. Again, I took a single step. Again, the gravel crackled underfoot.

This wasn’t working. After a moment’s thought, I cast a light-ball and tossed it down the alley, praying Edward didn’t pick that very moment to look behind him. When Lucas saw the ball, he peered around the corner. I gestured to the side alley. He nodded, darted across the alley, and pressed himself against the far wall. Then he inched to the opening and peeked down it. As he pulled back, he waved me forward.

When I got to the adjoining alley it was empty. Lucas motioned that Edward had slipped into a corridor farther down.

“He has a gun,” I mouthed, pantomiming a pistol with my hand.

Lucas nodded and we set off in pursuit.