He moved carefully to the bathroom. Started the shower, relieved himself, stepped under the spray. Zach stood, letting the hot water pound against his sore neck, shoulders, and back. The pain in his head eased some, stiff muscles began to soften.
His mind raced. He struggled for details. The handsome bartender. Kenny, he remembered. His bright smile and weird, liquid eyes. The way he had twitched.
As if uncomfortable in his own skin.
The other bartender—Amanda—flirting with him. His drinks, refilled without his remembering. Time passing.
Kenny exiting the bar. Following him.
Then nothing.
Nothing but my feet pounding the pavement. And fear.
There must have been something else. He sensed it there, lurking on the edges of his consciousness, but just out of reach.
Zach soaped his body, washed his hair. Let the water sluice over him until it went cold. He stepped out of the shower. From the bedroom came the insistent call of his cell phone. Micki or Parker, he thought, letting it ring.
Sitting on the edge of the tub, he tended his blisters, using antibiotic cream, then moleskin. He shook his head at his handiwork.
So much for Zach Harris, superhero.
As he reentered the bedroom; his cell went off again. He scooped it up from the floor. Micki, he saw.
“Yo, morning.” His first words of the day. More frog croaking than human language.
“Where the hell are you?”
Typical Mick. “Home.”
A moment of stunned silence. “You have any idea what time it is?”
He cleared his throat. “Absolutely none.”
“It’s nine in the freaking morning. After, actually.”
He limped into the hall, to the kitchen.
“I’ve called you five times—”
“Hold a sec.”
He set down the phone, started coffee, downed two full glasses of water and three Advils, then picked the device back up. “I’m back.”
“You better start talking, Harris. Last we spoke, you were heading to the French Quarter for some recon with a promise to check in. What happened to that? I imagined you dead in a ditch, for God’s sake—”
“Aw, Mick,” he managed without the croak, “you were worried about me?”
“In case you’ve forgotten, protecting your butt is my job.”
He stood, poured himself a coffee and sat back down. “Someone slipped me a Mickey, messed me up good. At least that’s what I think happened.”
“Explain.”
He shared about his bar crawl, noticing his numb fingers as he arrived at Kudzu’s, losing time, and his rubbery legs. “I woke up here, no memory of how I got home, every muscle feeling like I went twelve rounds with the devil himself and my feet tore up with blisters.”
He went on before she could comment. “The good news is I made him, Mick. Our guy. I know where he works.”
“Hot damn. Where?”
“Kudzu in Jax Brewery. Fits the profile to a T.”
“FBI’s? Or ours?”
“Both. Right age, handsome with dark hair. Charming. But with a twitch.”
“A twitch?”
“Yeah, like a random shudder. He gave off these strange vibes, like he was sick. Having a hard time holding it together.”
“And the Dark Bearer’s energy. Did he—”
“No.”
“No?” she repeated.
He heard surprise in her voice. Disbelief. It had been their ace in the hole. “Didn’t pick it up. Not anywhere.”
“That can’t be right. Not on anything?”
“I think it’s him anyway. Something about his eyes . . . I said something about the Friday night crowds, kids celebrating their twenty-first birthdays . . . his eyes did this weird thing. Like the pupils expanded and contracted. Totally creeped me out.”
“You got his name?”
“First only. Kenny.”
For a long moment, she was quiet. “How certain are you he’s our perp?”
“As certain as a guy who’s been drugged with who-knows-what can be.”
“Did he make you?”
“I don’t think so. I think he was sick.”
“Why?”
“He left the bar suddenly. Just bolted. I followed him—”
“Wait. Followed him? Without back up? What the hell, Harris! Anything could have—” She bit the last back and swore. “You’re certain he didn’t know you were tailing him? If he made you, we’re blown. He could be anywhere now.”
Coffee downed, Zach made his way back to the bedroom. “No way, we’re cool. I kept my distance. He never glanced back or changed pace, other than to stumble or double over.”
Zach began to dress. “I lost him somewhere in the Quarter. By that time, I was pretty messed up.”
“And that’s it?”
“By the look of my feet, it’s not. But it’s all I remember.”
She muttered something he couldn’t make out, but knew better than to ask her to repeat. “We stick to our plan,” she said. “First step is heading uptown to Tulane, see if we can locate Angel’s mysterious Eli. I’m at the Eighth; get your ass here as soon as possible.”
“My ass,” he said, “is on its way.”
Chapter Forty-five
Thursday, July 18
10:50 A.M.
Tulane University’s Office of the Registrar was located in Gibson Hall. The eyes of the pretty young woman manning the desk lit up when she saw Zach.