Брайан Макклеллан - Uncanny Collateral

Now, that is very interesting, Maggie commented.

A little tickle went up my spine. “Secondhand souls aren’t a thing,” I said flatly.

Zeke shrugged. “That’s what I thought. But when you mentioned missing souls, it popped into my head.”

“What’s the woman’s name?”

“Can’t help you there.”

“Where did you hear this rumor?”

“Friend of a friend,” Zeke said defensively. “You know I don’t give up my sources.”

He’s told us all he knows, Maggie informed me.

I locked eyes with Zeke and took one of the envelopes back. I counted out two hundred dollars, threw the cash on the table, and put the envelope in my pocket.

“Hey, hey,” Zeke said. “Come on!”

“You get to keep the envelope that shuts your mouth,” I told him, “but that bit of info doesn’t do much for me. You get me more info, and you might see the rest.” I paused. “Unless you have something more to add. What was it you were going to call me about?”

Zeke’s frown passed, and he seemed uncertain. “It might be nothing.”

“What kind of nothing?”

“There was this guy in here the other day asking after someone of your description.”

“I’m a white guy with tattoos,” I responded.

“Yeah, but he described your ring perfectly.” He pointed at Maggie’s ring.

Inside the back of my head, I felt Maggie become deathly still. I became suddenly self-conscious and resisted the urge to cover the ring with my hand. I’d never told a soul about the contents of the ring, and the only person who’d ever asked about it was Zeke. “What did he look like?” I asked.

“About five foot ten, black hair, black clothes. Emo type. I pegged him for an amateur necromancer. He smelled like black magic.”

“You think he’s dangerous?” I asked.

“Nothing you can’t handle.” Zeke chewed on his bottom lip. “But he’s not the kind of guy I want to get the drop on you.” I reached into my pocket, but Zeke held up both hands. “No charge for this one, buddy. I just wanted to warn you.”

“I appreciate it.” My mind was turning now, thinking over all the various debtors I’d dealt with the last couple years. The description didn’t ring a bell, but that didn’t mean some sour kid couldn’t dye his hair and start dabbling in necromancy. It was the bit about Maggie’s ring that worried me. “Did he ask after the ring itself, or just use it as part of the description he gave you?”

“Just the description.”

Does this ring a bell? I asked Maggie.

No . Should it?

Any old enemies from before we met – or, hell, before you were trapped in there? Some of the Other live a damned long time.

Any enemies that still knew I was alive died centuries ago. I don’t think I have any new enemies. It’s kind of hard to piss people off from in here. She didn’t sound all that worried, so I decided not to let it bother me.

“It’s probably an old debtor,” I told Zeke. “A lot of these assholes get mad when we take what they owe our clients. Instead of going after our clients, they go after us. Give me a call if he comes in here again, would you?”

“No problem.”

He’s not telling us everything, Maggie said.

Are you saying that because it’s true, or because you don’t like him?

Because it’s true.

I eyed Zeke for a moment. He was as mercenary as they come, but I’d always been able to trust him as long as Ada kept paying for the information he gave us. We practically funded his gambling habit, after all. It was smart of him to keep us happy.

And I knew him well enough to see that he had told all he was going to tell.

“Thanks,” I said again, turning toward the door.

“Hey,” he asked, “this thing with the souls – who’s the client on this, anyway? Lucy? If you see her, give her a peck on the cheek for me.”

“Doesn’t she still have a restraining order on you?”

“That’s a misunderstanding,” he replied with a pained look. “So who’s the client?”

“You don’t want to know,” I said, heading toward the door.

“Oh, come on,” Zeke said. “I’m already sworn to secrecy. Settle my curiosity.” He searched the counter for a moment, and his face suddenly brightened up. “Hey, you tell me who the client is, and I’ll hook you up with the next espresso machine that comes through here. Not one of those junk ones, either – a good one!”

I heard Maggie laugh in the back of my head. Little bastard knows you too well.

I considered for a moment. I had already bought his silence. “The client is Ferryman,” I said, pushing open the door.

“Well, shiz,” I heard him say as I left. “You weren’t kidding. I really didn’t want to know.”

A woman buying a secondhand soul might not sound like much to most people, but Zeke had given me enough information to get a serious start on this thing. First, I knew that she was a businesswoman working out of Cleveland. Second, I knew that she’d sold her soul at some point in the last two decades. If that was the case, I could track her down.

I called the office as I left Akron, waiting patiently until a woman’s voice answered.

“Valkyrie Collections, this is Nadine. How may I help you?”

“Nadine, it’s Alek.”

“Oh, hey, hun! I saw you were here already this morning. I tell you, Alek, you don’t have to make that shitty coffee. I’ll bring you something good when I come in.”

“I needed an early pick-me-up,” I told her. Nadine is the reaper secretary. She’s a heavyset black woman in her early fifties who hasn’t missed a day of work for thirty years – other than the two weeks she takes off every December to go to the Caribbean. She prefers her nails long, her hair dyed, her designer clothes discounted, her shoes expensive, and her men confident. She’s also the only person at Valkyrie who knows my true relationship with Ada, so she goes out of her way to make my life a little less miserable. She is, needless to say, one of my favorite people in the world.

“Well, you’ve got a chai latte sitting in the fridge with your name on it when you get back to the office, and I swear, if Karen tries to drink it, I will cut her.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Not a problem. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Did Ada tell you about the meeting with Ferryman this morning?”

Nadine snorted. “Yes, she did. That greasy old asshole left the whole office reeking of cigarettes. I’ve got a cleaning crew coming tomorrow to get the smell out before Ada gets back from Paris.”

“Thanks for taking care of that. Ada has me working on Ferryman’s job solo until it’s finished, but I could use a little support help.” Ferryman’s request for discretion meant I couldn’t depend on any of our normal skip tracers, but Nadine knew where all the bodies were buried in the company. I could trust her implicitly.

“Say the word.”

“I need you to start calling all the minor soul collecting companies – our clients and anyone else you can think of – and tell them we’re looking for a woman working out of downtown Cleveland who purchased wealth and power. The transaction was probably in the 2000s, but they should widen their search by a decade in each direction just in case.”

“Mmmhmm. You do know the Lords of Hell don’t like being asked questions about their clients, right?”

“Tell them the request comes straight from Ferryman and they can follow up with him if they aren’t happy. We need the name of this woman.”

“I’ll give it a go,” she promised. “This might take a couple of days. Half those pricks don’t answer their phones.”