“The necromancer is in-house at Goldman Sachs, with the lost wealth research division,” the vampire said.
“Okay, see, that’s excellent,” Jennifer said. “Let’s maybe ask her to revise this letter to focus on that, and let’s just skip mentioning the necromancer part. Now, about the pooka—”
“He’s a biotech entrepreneur!” the vampire said.
“Let’s see if there’s someone else we can get, okay?” Jennifer said.
The goblin doorman let Doug up without any hassle this time, even doing a good goblin impression of beaming. It took some effort not to glare at him. No wonder he was so happy Kell and his partner were looking for a new place, if the other guy was some kind of nut.
Kell was in the apartment alone, looking even smaller and hunched in a large shapeless sweater, and he twisted his hands anxiously as he let Doug in. “I suppose,” he said, “I suppose there’s no way to reopen the deal? I’d be willing to pay more—”
“Not a chance,” Doug said. “Mr. Kell, I don’t think you get it. If you or your partner does something, uh, unusual, you look unreliable, and that scares sellers. Closing can take two or three months. Even if you pay more, it’s not worth having a sale fall through at the last second.”
“Oh,” Kell said, dismally.
“Honestly, the solution here is to find a place that your partner will be happy with, too,” Doug said. “Is he here? I really do need to meet him.”
Kell sighed and said, “Just a moment.” He went to a cabinet and opened it and took out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He brought them over to the table and poured a glass.
Doug had seen a lot weirder things than a client needing a drink, but it did take him by surprise when Kell slid the glass over to him instead of downing it. “Thanks, but—”
“No,” Kell said. “You’ll want it in a moment.”
Doug started to ask, except Kell wasn’t talking anymore. He’d fallen back onto the couch, and he was doubled over with his face in his hands, and something weird was happening to him. He seemed to be— growing.
“Uh,” Doug said, and then Kell lifted his face out of his hands, and it wasn’t Kell anymore. The eyes were the same color, but bloodshot and wider-apart in a broader face, with a flattened nose and a jaw that looked like it had been carved out of rock. His neck was thickening even while Doug watched.
“Well, fucking finally,” not-Kell said, straightening up even more. The couch creaked under him. “So you’re the broker who took him to that shithole?”
Doug paused and said, “And you’re—?”
Not-Kell was coughing a little bit, thumping himself on the chest as he finished growing. He would have made about two of Kell with some leftovers. He belched loudly and bared his teeth in what you could’ve called a grin, if by grin you meant a mouth full of more shining white teeth than anybody should’ve had. “Call me Hyde.”
“Okay,” Doug said, after a second. “So that would make him—”
Hyde snorted. “I know. He changed the name when he moved here. Fucking pathetic.” He pointed to the drink. “Are you going to have that?”
Doug looked at the glass, then slid it back across the table. “So, Mr. Hyde,” he said, “can you tell me what you’re looking for in an apartment?”
The eradicator stepped back from the wall of bugs and shook his head slowly and lugubriously.
“Really? Nothing?” Tom said, heart sinking.
“Sorry,” the eradicator said. “These people, they’d lived here like twenty years or something. They put down roots. This,” he waved a hand at the bugs, “this goes way, way down. I could charge you ten grand and strip off the top layers of the curse, wipe the bugs out, but they’d be back in two months. Might be even worse—millipedes or something. I hate those things.” The eradicator shuddered his shoulders up and down expressively. “Anyway, you’re not getting this out for good until you rip down the whole building.”
He stopped and thought about it, and after a moment added, “Or you could get the two sellers back in and get them to make up. That can clear stuff like this up sometimes.”
Tom looked at him. “The sellers’ divorce took two years to finish, and they’re still in court on some issues.”
The eradicator shrugged. “Do they want to sell their apartment or not?”
Tom sighed. Then he paused and said, “So—wait, if you tried to take off the whole curse, the bugs might get worse—”
“Right,” the eradicator said.
“If you didn’t try that,” Tom said, “could you maybe—do something else with them?”
“What did you have in mind?” the eradicator asked.
The vampire’s application was still pretty disheartening, especially when Jennifer compared it to the one she was putting the final touches on that afternoon. She didn’t like to jinx things, but kitsune or not, it was pretty much guaranteed Mei Shinagawa would be a shoo-in at the no-dogs-allowed Berkeley. Six letters of reference, terrific financials, and she’d even tucked in tiny origami cranes to be included with the copies of the application, one for each of the board members. The vampire’s tax return, on the other hand, had a suspicious reddish-brown stain on the front.
To make the day complete, after she’d gotten off the phone with the vampire, Jennifer’s phone went off with another all-caps CALL ME!! text message from one of their former buyers, a lawyer who’d bought into the top-drawer Oryx co-op for the panoramic views from the twenty-fourth floor apartment. Now those were about to go away, thanks to a new development, and she was having fits.
“If the Landmarks Commission has approved the renovation, and there’s nothing in the zoning to stop it …” Jennifer said, apologetically.
She felt bad, but what could you do? That was Manhattan: you put one building up, somebody else put a bigger one up next door.
“My view was supposed to be protected!” Angela said. “It faces onto a freaking landmarked church!”
“I’m sorry. They’re going to preserve the exterior shell and put up a new building on the inside, mimicking the facade and carvings all the way up,” Jennifer said. “We could look for a new place for you, if you want?”
“How can I afford a new place with this millstone around my neck? Who is going to pay two million for a one bedroom with a view of a brick wall accessorized by carvings of smiley angels or whatever these guys are putting on their monstrosity?” Angela said. “No one, that’s who! Oh my god, why did I buy at peak? I knew better!”
Of course she hadn’t known better; nobody knew better, that was why it was peak. Jennifer said some comforting things with half a mind while she collated pages of the kitsune’s application, and got off the phone; then she stopped and picked the phone up again and called back. “Angela? Can you get a picture of the facade and email it to me?”
“Granite countertops!” Hyde said. “I want some granite fucking countertops. None of this cheap Formica shit.”