Dead Waters - Anton Strout [50]
14
I considered spending my free afternoon going through my ever-growing catalog of antiques back at my apartment, but, afraid of triggering another messed-up vision, I instead found myself wandering alone over on Broadway in the Village. For hours I shopped up and down the stretch, with only one object in mind—a new dresser for my bedroom, without using my powers for once. My last incident hadn’t gone so well, but I was determined to work through the mental gymnastics my power was putting me through. I looked through stores that had existed for decades, but after hours of poking about, nothing felt quite right. Frustrated, I checked my watch—my hunt would have to continue later. Right now I had to get over to Eccentric Circles if I was going to catch up with the Inspectre.
I entered the old bar. It looked like a T.G.I. Friday’s designed with sort of a Harry Potter theme, oddities of the arcane world that would have given it an almost tourist-attraction hokeyness except for the fact that it was all real to those of us in the know.
The place was packed with an after-work crowd, but I didn’t think all of them hailed from the Department of Extraordinary Affairs. I crushed through the crowd at the front by the bar and found the Inspectre seated on one side of a booth out back, several pitchers and glasses of beer spread out on the table. Some of the booths held familiar faces, but it was the faces seated with the Inspectre I was surprised to see. The brothers Christos sat there opposite him.
“Oh, look,” Aidan called out, pointing at me. “Delivery!” The vampire couldn’t help but laugh at his own joke. I, however, wasn’t quite as amused.
“Funny,” I said, slipping into the booth next to the Inspectre. I turned to him. “I didn’t realize the undead were into memorial tributes, unless it’s for one of their own.”
Connor thwacked me on the arm. “Consider him my plus one, kid.”
“Besides,” Aidan said, “did you ever consider maybe that’s part of the problem between our people? You keep assuming that our kind is only interested in what is best for us.”
“Your leader sure seems to be looking out for his own interests,” I said.
Aidan shook his head. “Not true,” he said. “Don’t mistake his general desire to be left alone as a single-minded attempt to break away from humanity completely.”
“Gentlemen, please,” the Inspectre interrupted, already sounding like he had put away a few beers. “Tonight is not a night to discuss vampiric affairs. We’re here to mourn the loss of Mason Redfield.”
I grabbed a glass and poured myself a beer from one of the pitchers at the table. I raised it and the group of us toasted to the dear, departed professor. While I drank it down, I looked around the room. “Quite the turnout,” I said. “I didn’t realize so many people knew Redfield. Not bad for a guy who left the Fraternal Order of Goodness—what—thirty years ago?”
The Inspectre looked around the room, a bit melancholy. “Most of them don’t recall him,” the Inspectre said, wiping away a bit of foam that had accumulated in his mustache. “I think this crowd is mostly a mix of the usual oddities that inhabit Eccentric Circles. There are a few Departmental people here who came out on my behalf, but I really think there are few left in our ranks who actually remember Mason before he left the Order.”
“You think any of them would know anything about the case?” I asked.
The Inspectre shook his head. “Doubtful,” he said. “I don’t know of anyone who’s kept in touch.” He took a long pull on his glass, and then set it down empty. “Least of all me.”
“Don’t worry, boss,” Connor said from across the table. “We’ll find that creepy water woman who killed Mason and attacked Jane.”
I looked to Connor. “Maybe your brother has some kind of powers that can help,” I said. “Something, you know, all vampirey.”
Aidan smiled, but it was not one of confidence. “ ’Fraid not,” he said. “I’ve only been a bloodsucker with them for about twenty years. They still call me fledgling back at the Gibson-Case Center, despite my high ranking among Brandon’s core group