Part 16 (1/2)
Joubert gave an animal yelp as Dmitri threw him across the room to hit a wall, landing in a rain of plaster. I saw long, curved razor claws blossom from Dmitri's fingers and he walked after Joubert in that same measured, even pace.
My bleeding head was slowing, and although my skull still throbbed I thought I might live. How many concussions did that make for the week? Never mind, my head was clear enough to realize we needed Joubert alive. I opened my mouth to say so, but Irina came bolting through the door and threw herself at Dmitri, screaming, ”Stop! Don't kill him!”
Dmitri shook her off like one kicks away an annoying terrier, and Irina landed on her a.s.s for the second time that day. ”Stay out of my way,” he told her, swiveling his head slowly to lock her eyes. Irina wilted like a cheap bouquet, real fear coming alive in her expression.
I was feeling it too, seeing the Dmitri I knew replaced by this icy facade with the dead man's eyes. Joubert was whimpering in the corner, his dominance well and truly gone. Dmitri paused over him, hands hanging loosely at his sides, then he reached out and lifted Joubert up, the hairy were's feet dangling a good foot off the ground.
Never in my life have I wanted to walk away from a fight as much. But I got up instead, swaying badly but conscious and reasonably functional, which was all I could hope for these days, and went to Dmitri. ”Don't.”
Dmitri purred in his chest, the small expression I knew to be his prelude to an explosion of temper. ”He hurt you. He tried to claim you. You're mine.” mine.” His hand tightened on Joubert's throat, the black talons digging in. His hand tightened on Joubert's throat, the black talons digging in.
Well, halle-freaking-lujah. At least the daemonic Dmitri realized he still cared about me. Overjoyed as I was, I still had his mating instincts to contend with.
”I know,” I said. ”He's a piece of s.h.i.+t and he deserves to die. But not now. Now I need you to let him go.”
Dmitri shook his head. ”I want to kill him for you. I'd like it.”
As would I, truth be told. Nothing like hacking up the compet.i.tion to show a girl how much you care. I ignored the frisson of heat Dmitri's planned action sent through me and touched his arm, firmly, pressing down to make him release Joubert. ”We need him alive if he's going to talk. After that, you can do whatever you want.”
He met my eyes and his black gaze burned like an oil fire on a winter sea. ”Whatever I want?” he rasped.
”Anything.” I nodded, my mouth dry. Hex it, why did he have to be so G.o.ds-d.a.m.ned attractive when he was homicidal?
Dmitri blinked and released Joubert, who tumbled to the floor. He glared up at us and ma.s.saged his throat. I pointed a finger in his face and said, ”Don't you twitch.”
”What the Hex happened?” Dmitri demanded. His voice was back to normal, dusty and irritable. He blinked and his eyes were green again.
”You don't remember?” I said cautiously.
”Not really,” Dmitri admitted. ”Just remember smelling blood, and busting in.” He looked at Joubert. ”What's his problem?”
All the primal l.u.s.t that had been generated as I stood there trying to convince him not to kill Joubert disappeared on the cold wind of reality. ”Get him up,” I said, gesturing at Joubert. ”After I question him, you and I need to have a talk.”
Dmitri looked uncomfortable, hitching at his jeans like a teenager on a date. ”Problem?” I snapped. I was embarra.s.sed, and I react to most bad situations by getting b.i.t.c.hy.
”No,” Dmitri muttered, his face coloring slightly. ”I'm just... er...” He adjusted his fly and folded his arms across his chest. ”I'm fine.”
Irina hauled herself to her feet before I could fully pa.r.s.e that the near-bloodshed had gotten both Dmitri and me hot, and what exactly that would mean to my next therapy session. ”Dmitri, let me take you outside. You are not well.”
”I'm fine! Hex it, Irina, stop hovering!” he snapped. She pulled back like he'd slapped her.
I grabbed Joubert by the collar and hauled him into his dining room, sitting him in a chair. He growled when I touched him, but it was halfhearted. ”The Loup will kill you for this if they ever find out.”
”And I'm supposed to believe you'd tell your pack that you got your a.s.s kicked by an Insoli and a Redback?” My turn to laugh. ”Buddy, you are so lucky your windpipe isn't lying halfway across the room right now.”
He glowered. ”What do you want, cop?”
”Vincent Blackburn,” I said. ”I know his death was murder. I know the O'Hallorans set it up, for whatever reasons they have.” Still working on that one. ”Who did the dirty work?” I asked Joubert. ”You? He screws you over and you decide to get in bed with the caster witches' revenge?”
Joubert snorted. ”h.e.l.l no. Vincent wasn't smart enough to screw me. That kid was such a junkie, he would've worn a dress and humped a goat if it'd get him dope. Always broke, always a waste of s.p.a.ce.”
”Listen,” I said. ”If you don't tell me who killed this kid-and I know you know, or have a reasonably good idea-the city is going to burn down and the next time you move a kilo of c.o.ke will be in six months, after everyone is done cleaning up from the f.u.c.king riots.”
Unmoved, Joubert sighed and stared up at the ceiling. ”Why Vincent?” I murmured. ”He was out of the family. What could he possibly have done to deserve a death like that?” Remembering Vincent's curled-up body, I had an unwelcome flash of what his last minutes had been like-senseless pain and agonizing death. I'm violent by blood and instinct, but the casual, calculated causing of pain to another living thing is foreign to me.
”I said he was always broke,” said Joubert, patting his pockets and bringing out a squashed pack of cigarettes. He lit one up and exhaled. ”The club gets a lot of high-profile clientele. Vincent, the dumbs.h.i.+t, decided that selling c.o.ke to 'em wasn't enough. He was gonna make a buck on the back end with dirty videotapes and stained panties.”
And like a wave breaking on sh.o.r.e, I saw in the clean light of logic why Vincent had been murdered. Not for a magickal war. Not for revenge, or honor or anything lofty like that. ”Blackmail.”
”Yup,” Joubert nodded. ”The dumbs.h.i.+t,” he said again. ”We had a decent sideline going. Just like that fairy to go f.u.c.k everything up.”
”Who was he squeezing?” I asked. ”Give me the names and we'll leave you alone.” Or I would, at least. I couldn't vouch for Dmitri, who was skulking in the doorway to the dining room like a surly shadow.
Joubert stood nervously and paced away from me, scattering ash on his antique rug. ”I can't do that. It'd be bad for business.”
”I don't have all freaking day,” I said. ”If it makes you feel better you can just write them discreetly on a pad and I'll pretend I found it among all my love letters from Dmitri here.” Someone close to the O'Hallorans. It could be anyone in the city-anyone respected, or rich, or whose face showed up in the Inquirer Inquirer often enough to get embarra.s.sed about their penchant for adult-sized diapers and baby bonnets. often enough to get embarra.s.sed about their penchant for adult-sized diapers and baby bonnets.
Joubert took a long drag on his smoke, killing it down to the b.u.t.t, and exhaled. He looked at himself in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall and heaved a sigh.
”I'm not going away,” I said. ”Get cracking.”
I'll never know how fast it really happened, but one instant Joubert was staring morosely at his unattractive reflection and the next his fist had flashed out, shattering the mirror and raining gla.s.s shards all over the dining room.
”Hex it!” Dmitri said. ”What the h.e.l.l are you doing, Joubert?”
Joubert didn't answer him. His body was rigid and his throat was working like he was trying to speak. He turned like a toy soldier doing an about-face, jaw still twitching, and I smelled his blood before I saw the jagged piece of mirror clutched in his hand.
”No,” I said. ”No ...”
Mechanically, Joubert raised the gla.s.s shard, every inch of his stubby body straining against the motion. He gave a strangled groan and I saw a blood vessel burst in one of his eyes, the red stain spreading across the pupil.
I looked to Dmitri.
”Do something!” he yelled at me, always the helpful one.
”Joubert, don't do this.” I started for him, palms up so he wouldn't feel threatened. I considered telling him he had a lot to live for, but he was a middle-aged drug dealer who had back hair and lived in a house that looked like it had been decorated by Bizarro Martha Stewart. Somehow I figured that would just make things worse.
As soon as I was within grabbing range, Joubert lashed out at me with the piece of gla.s.s.
”Hex me!” I jumped backward and felt the ragged mirror shard catch on my coat. Another jacket ruined. ”Joubert,” I pleaded. ”Just put it down.”
He looked right at me, with his bloodstained eyes, locking me in with a gaze so terrifying I will carry it with me until the day I die. His eyes were trapped, terror-stricken, begging someone to help him even as he raised the mirror shard and cut his own throat.
Someone screamed, and I saw Irina bury her face against Dmitri's chest as Joubert collapsed, no longer stiff as his life ran out onto the carpet in a brilliant red cloud. I just stood, shocked beyond movement for two or three seconds, and then my training took over and I ripped the stained cloth off the dining room table and fell beside Joubert, pressing against the deep half-moon wound in his neck with all my strength.
Too late, of course. He'd severed his artery and he only twitched once as he bled out, heartbeat becoming thready and then nonexistent under my now-crimson hands.