The Curse Servant (The Dark Choir Book 2) (26 page)

My phone interrupted my internal debate, and I stepped outside to take the call.

It was Julian.

“Dorian? Are you busy this afternoon?”

I had to summon the strength to even reply. “Not really.”

“There’s a big meeting here at the office. Kind of want you to sit in.”

“Which office?”

“The Office,” Julian underscored.

“As in―”

“The Mayor’s office.”

“Oh.”

ooner’s face filled the pull-down screen at the other end of the conference room, and was quickly shunted to a split screen by an unflattering headshot of Joey McHenry. As dark music droned in the background, an announcer barked in a dramatic tone, “But Sooner doesn’t want you to know who his single largest contributor is. Joey McHenry. A vote for Sooner is a vote for McHenry.”

A few of the gathered organ-grinders bobbed their heads in amusement, particularly Toad Face who seemed especially self-congratulatory. Bright sat next to Sullivan at the end of the table, both twisted in their seats at awkward angles to watch the TV spot.

“Do you want a mayor, Baltimore? Or do you want a CEO?” The scene jump-cut to what someone in a production studio imagined a pink slip looked like with
Working Citizens of Baltimore
hand written across the top.

I spied a glimpse of Julian who visibly winced at that particular image.

Sullivan’s face was solid, stony, inscrutable.

The TV spot wrapped with a flattering shot of Sullivan.

“Keep your jobs, Baltimore. Keep your homes. Re-elect David Sullivan.”

The screen flickered to black and someone raised the lights in the room. Two or three of the organ grinders tried to start applause, but it was too crowded.

Julian announced, “Latest from Citizens United to Re-elect.”

Toad Face cleared his throat. “It’s time, Mayor. We’ve been ducking and weaving all week with Sooner attack ads.”

Bright lifted his brow and scanned the other faces. “Everyone?”

Faces nodded one by one. The only one who seemed unconvinced was Sullivan.

“Dorian?” Julian called from across the room.

Eyes turned to me, and I tried my best to come up with a response that made me look as if I belonged there.

“It’ll probably work.”

“Probably?” Toad Face snorted.

Julian added, “You don’t seem convinced.”

I noticed Sullivan staring holes through me. His eyes were wide and expectant. He had the look of a man grasping for a life raft.

“Okay, no. Don’t run it.”

Toad smacked his hand on the table. “Here we go with this guy.”

“You want my opinion?” I asked him, “Or do you just want everyone to throw you a princess party? People are sick of this. It’s all they hear. It’s all they think politicians know how to act.”

“Every time one of Sooner’s negatives runs, and we don’t respond, we look weak. We have the high ground. He deployed first. We win.”

Sullivan interrupted. “We don’t win until we win.” He turned to me. “I’m sorry, I’m horrible with names.”

Julian said, “Dorian Lake. Grass roots in West Baltimore.”

“Mister Lake, you feel the voters don’t want negative campaigns. But they respond to them. Curtis has a point.”

Ah. Toad Face had a name. I liked Toad Face better.

“I’m sure the people at large are jaded enough to think it’s the only way to run an election, so Curtis is probably right.”

“I know I’m right,” he blustered.

I sighed and held up my hands. “You asked me a question, you have my answer. Run the ad, and you’ll be everything all of the voters have come to expect from you.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Julian in particular clenching up in his chair.

“I think what Dorian is trying to say,” he offered, “is that there’s still a way to play the high ground without rolling an attack ad.”

Sullivan shifted to Julian and asked, “Is there?”

“I don’t see how,” he responded. “Curtis is right. We’re taking a hit on Sooner’s ads. Mostly because we have yet to refute his claims.”

“Right. I’m a member of the Freemasons, so I must be participating in some shadow government,” Sullivan scoffed.

“Are you?” I asked. “A Mason, I mean. Not the shadow government thing.”

Sullivan grinned. “Knights of Columbus.”

“Damn. I was kind of hoping you could put in a word for me.”

This drew some chuckles from the room. Except for Toad Face. He worked at the conference table with his fingertips before jerking toward me red-faced.

“What are you doing, Mister Lake? You’re grass roots. I’ve heard that twice now. But I haven’t seen any numbers from Shipley Hill. Franklin-Mulberry. Hollins. Are you actually campaigning, or are you here to play Devil’s advocate? I seriously want to know what you’re doing for this campaign. Because if this man isn’t a part of this team, then I don’t feel like suffering his recriminations every time we talk strategy.”

Julian held up a hand and drew in a breath. Probably to defend me. I didn’t let him.

“I own properties on Fayette Street. Low income rentals. Which matters to you, all of you, because they’re on the backside of the Carrollton block. You’ll recognize that if you’re keeping track of McHenry Construction’s master plan for the downtown area. He’s buying up the old stamp factory and all of the row houses lining the block to demolish and develop. He’s made all the property owners offers.”

I looked over to Julian, whose eyes were narrowing.

“Yeah. He made me an offer. He wants to buy my properties. It’s a decision being made between two reasonably wealthy men. Well, one millionaire and one trust fund child.”

More chuckles, though more subdued.

“Know who isn’t a part of this conversation? The people living there. You know why? Most are supporting families at or below the poverty level. Probably leveraged on credit. Probably on assistance. I don’t know their personal stories. I’m not that kind of landlord. But I have to tell you, I’d be profoundly stupid not to take McHenry’s offer.”

Eyes stared at me.

Especially Julian’s.

I continued, “Mister Mayor? You want to know why these people are so jaded? They’re losing their city block by block. You may agree with Curtis, you might not. But right now I have to think about how I’m going to tell my tenants they’re going to have to find another place to live. And next to that, I’m sorry, but getting you re-elected feels kind of small.”

I gathered my briefcase and turned for the door.

Curtis snickered. “Alright, anyway. Back to reality.”

It was probably lack of sleep, lack of food, and almost certainly lack of whiskey that made me snap.

“Reality? What do you think reality is? Poll data?” I pointed directly at Sullivan “My God, you don’t have a clue why this man is about to find another line of work, do you? These people don’t want to leave, and it’s not because they like where they live. It’s because where they live stopped being home a long time ago.” I turned to Sullivan. “The problem, Mister Mayor, is that people like me are the ones making these decisions. You want to make a difference? Put people like me out of work.”

Sullivan stood up, and the entire room followed. I wanted to proceed with my dramatic exit, but I suddenly had three men standing in my way.

The Mayor leaned forward on the table, shaking his head.

“We’re going to sit on this ad another week.”

Curtis choked on a response, but had the presence of mind not to say anything.

Sullivan nodded to Julian before turning to take an exit through a side door.

Julian shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay, that’s the word people. Curtis? Your office in fifteen minutes. Dorian?”

I nodded to Julian as the others gathered their coats. Curtis, in particular, made sure not to put himself in a position to make eye contact as he slid past me into the front hall.

In the space of a couple minutes, I found myself alone with Julian, bracing for his wrath.

Instead, I got applause. Julian clapped a few times, his face bright with a smile.

“Dorian, you insufferable little prick, I think I’m going to kiss you.”

“Buy me lunch, first.”

“I wanted you here to see what you were doing for this campaign.”

I cocked my head. “And what, exactly, am I doing?”

“Well, you’re keeping Sully’s karma nice and shiny for one.”

“It’s a living.”

He nodded. “Seriously, though. Do you understand why I hired you in the first place?”

“I’m very sure you don’t want me to answer that out loud in this building.”

“I agreed with Curtis. I was ready to run the ads. I couldn’t tell him it was a bad call.”

I stared at Julian for a few seconds. I had always pegged him as a fundamental ideals man. I had no idea he came so close to compromise within these halls. “So I’m you’re anti-Yes-Man?”

I gave Julian a baffled shrug.

“Well, you’re welcome,” I offered with a shrug.

“How are you doing? Things progressing with your new lady friend?”

“Jesus, Julian, I’m not eighty.”

“Whatever.”

“Hey, you remember Amy Mancuso?” I ventured.

His face darkened. “Not likely to forget her. Why?”

“That day, when you called me. Look, things are getting really screwed up in my head these days, and, well… you were there before I was. Tell me straight. Was what happened to Amy real?”

He drew in a deep breath. “It was real enough to call you.”

“Something was really inside her. Right? I mean, you hinted there was something in her past with addiction and being mentally disturbed.”

“Dorian, I can’t tell you what was really happening with that woman. But I know enough to recognize a dark force when I see one.”

“I need her address.”

“Why?”

“I want to talk to her. One-on-one.”

“And how is that a good idea?”

“Listen, this is personal. This thing, whatever it is, it’s gunning for me. And my friends are suffering because of it. I need to talk to her. I need to figure out how this happened to her. See if I can’t piece it together.”

Julian’s eyebrows pinched, and his jaw dropped slightly.

I realized why when I felt a tear running down my cheek.

The side door opened, and Sullivan stepped inside.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Julian turned and smiled. “No sweat.”

I tried to wipe my face as discreetly as possible.

Sullivan stepped around the table toward me. “Mind if I borrow Mister Lake, Julian?”

“Uh, no. That’s fine. We’re finished.” He looked at me with a mix of alarm and amusement. “Dorian, I’ll get that info to you by the end of the day.”

Sullivan nodded to Julian and herded me to the door with a flat hand against my shoulder. We stepped into the front hall, and he set a brisk pace, his shoes clacking off the terrazzo floor.

“I wanted to thank you for your candor, Dorian. Sorry, I assume we’re on a first name basis at this point.”

“Sorry about that. That guy just really makes me want to punch him in the throat.”

“Curtis is a handful, but he’s also worked in campaign strategy for over eleven years. So, you know, you might want to cut him some slack.”

Julian was right. I’d have to work on that snap judgment thing, one of these days. “I’ll keep that in mind.”