The Curse Servant (The Dark Choir Book 2) (46 page)

“It’s gone.”

“For good?”

“Yeah. For good.”

Edgar stepped into the darkness, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“You did it.”

“I had help.”

I dusted off my pants and picked up my flashlight. As the two of us returned to the artificial light of the work space and rounded my table toward the stairs, I paused by the cabinet housing Emil’s Library. Placing a hand on top of the dark wood, I released a single simple thank you out into the Cosmos. If there was any kind of meaningful existence for Emil, if the Dark Choir hadn’t utterly consumed his soul by this point, I hoped he had the means to sense that one thin point of light I had sent out into the hereafter.

When I reached the top of the stairs, there was no sign of Gillette or Carmody.

I turned to Edgar. “Where’s Gillette?”

“She called a cab. Stuffed Carmody in it like some drunk asshole.”

“Didn’t even say goodbye. Figures.”

“If it’s worth anything, she did ask me to tell you never to call her again.”

“So, the usual then?” I looked over Edgar’s shoulder. “How’s Elle?”

“See for yourself.”

I stepped into the front room, and found Wren holding Elle’s head in her lap, stroking her hair as Elle stared up at the ceiling. Those eyes shifted to me as I stood in front of them, and one thin, but glorious smile spread across her face.

“Hey, Dorian,” she wheezed.

“Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?”

“Hungry. Got any cereal?”

I have never been happier in my life to pour a bowl of Captain Crunch.

o, how’s your replacement handling the campaign?”

Julian’s brows lifted in disapproval as he took a sip of his martini. “She’s doing her best.”

“Doesn’t sound promising.”

“She has to cut her teeth on my dropped work load just in time to find a new job, so I’d say she’s coping better than expected.”

“Oh, have some faith,” I snickered as I did my level best to get the old man’s attention behind the bar. He finally noticed me and nearly snapped back to life as he labored over pouring a whiskey. “I think he’s going to die of old age before I get my Scotch.”

Julian leaned back and shook his head. “How did you find this place, anyway?”

“It’s not the Club, but it’s cozy. Reminds me of a pub I used to frequent in London. Except, you know, there were actual people there.”

Julian looked around the dark interior of the old pub at the foot of the Belvedere and smiled. “It’s peaceful, anyway. I’ll give you that.” His face drew long as he folded his hands nervously in front of him.

“What’s next for you?” I ventured.

“I was going to take a couple weeks in the Hamptons, but I’m already getting cagey. They’ll have to put me on medication if I don’t find something to do with myself.”

“Any leads jobwise?”

He grimaced. “I’m not actually free to pursue anything at the moment. Ongoing investigation.”

“You’re lawyered up, I assume.”

“I’ll be fine.”

The old man set a fresh lowball on the table in front of me, and I gripped it tightly, mustering the will to ask the question.

“So. This kid.”

“You’re asking me this question, aren’t you?”

“The individual who leaked this had to assume the allegation was genuine.”

“Just political mudslinging. Doesn’t have to be actual mud. The public just has to think it’s dirty.”

I wasn’t eager to detail my involvement with Carmody’s actions. It wouldn’t have helped.

“I’m not trying to butt into your personal business, Julian. You know that. I’m just trying to support you, for what that’s worth.”

He withdrew for a moment in his chair. Something clicked in his brain as he unfolded himself and leaned toward the table.

“I was nineteen. He was sixteen. We met at the Dayton Academy. We were kids, and we weren’t smart enough to know what we wanted. We were just feeling our way through the emotions we had, and we didn’t exactly have a lot of people we could talk to about it. I graduated and went to Georgetown, but that was still only a couple hours’ drive away. My mistake was in not realizing the relationship needed to end, not because I had turned this magical number that made the relationship inappropriate. No, it needed to end because I was finding myself, he was going to find himself, and we were just chaining ourselves together out of fear of heartbreak. If I could go back and change how that happened, I would. In a second. That’s my regret. We could have done so much more with that year than we did.” He took a long sip of gin. “He ended up at Stanford, anyway. Haven’t spoken to him since.”

Julian sat straight, his chin up. Though his eyes were heavy and pinched, he didn’t seem the slightest bit broken by the memory.

“I think we all have people we should have cut loose before it was too late,” I offered.

“Do you?”

“You remember Carmen, right?”

“Oh. Right.” He chuckled awkwardly. “What about now? You have someone new, right?”

“That got complicated.”

Julian lifted his brow and nodded wearily.

That was something I hadn’t made a plan for yet. Ches was still in Baltimore. We maintained our veneer of affection for the Swains when the business with Carmody was over. I hadn’t told Ches about Gillette’s ultimatum. The proper time never came to mention it. Besides. I deserved a small vacation from all of this.

The door opened, and a massive figure stepped inside, eclipsing the sunlight from the street as he moved into the bar.

“There he is,” I quipped as I stood up and held out a hand.

Big Ben shook my hand and slapped my shoulder, nearly knocking me over. He was wore a polo shirt and jeans. I had never seen him out of white shirtsleeves before. The image was jarring.

“How you been, Dorian boy?” he sputtered.

“Busy as hell. Did you bring it?”

Ben reached under his arm and produced my bottle of Glenrothes.

I smiled and turned to the table. “You remember Julian Bright?”

He nodded and reached to shake Julian’s hand. “Of course I do! Sorry to hear about your job.”

Julian smiled and waved off the comment. “I’m fine.” He gave me a lift of his brow. “Is this a meeting? Did I miss a memo?”

“Didn’t send one, but yeah.” I gestured for Ben to take a seat at our table. “Way I see it, each one of us finds himself at a crossroads here.”

“I don’t follow,” Julian muttered.

“Well, Ben’s hung up his towel after, what, twenty years at the Club?”

“More like eighteen,” he corrected.

Julian frowned. “Retirement?”

Ben cocked his head, a chin roll puffing out as he grinned. “Forced retirement. I got a little hands-on with the Club staff.”

“That was my fault,” I added.

“So I was courteously asked to beat the bricks. Ain’t that a kick in the ass?”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Julian offered, still giving me a dubious look. “You were a real asset to that place.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said. “And I feel that wasting an asset like Ben would simply be criminal.”

“What’s your angle, Dorian?”

I held up my hands and gestured at the walls surrounding us. “This joint has been on the market for years.”

Ben’s eyes lit up, and he twisted in his chair as much as his girth would allow him.

Julian smirked and tapped his fingers on the table. “You want to buy a bar, Dorian? That’s reaching, even for you.”

“No, hear me out. I’m about to lose all of my properties, and my charms and hexes aren’t the money-makers they used to be. My rental income was keeping me in the black, and I’m about to lose that. I figure I can’t make enough from the property sale to live off, so I need a new enterprise.”

“I hate to break this to you, Dorian,” Julian said, “but if this place has been on the market for years, as you say, there might be a reason.”

“It’s not location, I’ll tell you that. We’re three blocks from the Inner Harbor, three blocks from Lexington Market, two blocks from City Hall. We’re literally surrounded by offices and pedestrian traffic is strong.”

“It’s stronger on Charles.”

“Not the point. The only thing keeping this place from taking off is poor management.” I added, tossing my thumb over my shoulder, “And I don’t think Grandpa Moses over there is exactly ready to shake things up.”

Ben nodded. “Just enough room for a neighborhood bar. You don’t want too much space. You want shoulders rubbing together.”

“Right.”

Julian laid a hand on the table and smiled. “Well, alright then. Best of luck with it, Dorian.”

“Hold up. You’re not off the hook, here.”

“Didn’t realize I was on a hook to begin with.”

“Like I said, I don’t have the liquid assets to invest in this place, especially after making sizable donations to a couple of churches.”

Julian and Ben both gave me a look.

“It’s complicated. Anyway, when the properties move in the next couple weeks, then I’ll have probably half the asking price. Even if I negotiate down, it’s a stretch.”

Julian grumbled, “You’re looking at me, Dorian. I’m not crazy about the way you’re looking at me.”

“You know Ben. You know he can manage this place. We’ll get some servers who are younger, maybe another manager for nights and weekends.”

Ben’s head bobbed. “Thank you.”

“Look, Julian. I could finance it, but I don’t want to. Truth is, I think this is right for you.”

“I’m a political strategist, Dorian. Not an entrepreneur.”

“Which is why it works. Take another look at where we are. Who do you see walking up and down that sidewalk right now?”

He glanced over my shoulder at the businessmen and women yattering away on cell phones.

“These are the same people you’ve been working with. You know you can’t work for Sullivan anymore, but that doesn’t mean all of your contacts just vanished on you. You can still be relevant. The tavern is the original forum for discourse and conspiracy. If anything it’ll free you up to open channels you couldn’t risk before. And what’s better, you get to have a private life.”

Julian looked back and forth between Ben and me. “You realize nine out of ten hospitality startups in this city fail in their first year?”

“We get to cheat.”

“How?”

“Well, I happen to know someone who can make charms and hexes. And we have Ben. Druid Hill meant something to me for the longest time. But you know what? I’ve outgrown it, now. And so have you. We both love to feel important. Well, now instead of fitting in, let’s create the space, so that other people come to us.”

Julian smiled. “I’ll give you this, Dorian. This was the last thing I was expecting today. So you’ll forgive me if I have to take a day or two before rejecting you out of hand?”

I smiled. “At least two days. Then you can reject me out of hand.”

Julian nodded.

“Good. Let’s go talk to Grandpa Moses. I popped in here yesterday and got his numbers. See? I do my homework.”

“Fine, fine.”

We stood up, and as soon as we moved for the bar, my phone rang.

“Crap. I need to take this,” I explained. “Go ahead and start without me. Ask questions. Convince yourself this is a good idea.”

I moved to the front windows where reception was better and answered my phone.