Page 16 of Cheater Slicks

“You must have been on an assignment from Dis Pater when you met him.” I set my palm on his chest. “That’s also probably why you don’t remember. His handling of the Alcheyvaha showed me he has no problem suppressing any pesky memories that might get in the way of you doing as you’re told.”

Did Kierce and I share some unknown history? Could Dis Pater have erased hisandmy memories of it? There was no doubt in my mind it was possible, but I decided it was unlikely.

Erasure on that scale would create a massive ripple effect. To get away with revising my recollections, he would have had to tamper with Matty and Josie too. And even then, the Suarezes, who were immune to such things, would have told us if we lost a chunk of time.

No.

Pierre was baiting us, hoping Kierce or I were desperate enough to bite.

“I wouldn’t know they existed now if not for you. He would have taken that knowledge from me. Again.” His hands clenched at his sides as rare anger washed over him. “What else have I done? Who else have I harmed? How can you ever trust me when I can’t trust myself?”

“Don’t let him get in your head.” I curled my fingers into his shirt. “Do that, and he wins.”

“How can you just accept it?” His haunted gaze lingered on my lips. “Accept me?”

“I don’t need to know who you were to know who you are.” I willed him to believe me. “I didn’t expect a Viduus to be some paragon of virtue. How could you be? I may not have all the information, but that’s okay. Until you do something that proves otherwise, I’m going to trust my gut, and you can’t stop me.”

“Frankie…”

“Nope.” I yanked him a step forward. “You’re not talking me into giving you up on the say-so of a guy who hasn’t used a bar of soap since Prohibition. And you’re not going to bargain with him to find out whatever he claims to know about you either. There are other ways to unravel your past, and I’ll help if that’s what you want, but not like this.”

“Thank you.” He slid his arms around me and held on like he was afraid of letting go. “Just…thank you.”

How could I give up on him when it was clear everyone else already had? His withdrawal from our world had been motivated by exhaustion from his role, but how much of that was linked to his inability to form lasting bonds because of his duties? Because he knew Dis Pater could command him to end any relationship that detracted from fulfilling his god’s will with a snap of his fingers?

How long would I have lasted without the Marys? Not long. For some reason, most people tended to find necromancers creepy or strange. That was why those who dwelled among the dead tended to bury their social lives. Poor Kierce’s had been DOA when we met, and mine had been on life support. Outside of my family, I wasn’t Little Miss Popular either.

Headlights glided over us, and we piled into a mud-splattered sedan for the trip over to Ursulines.

And if Kierce’s fears gave mine fodder, I did my best to hide those corkscrew thoughts from him.

Ursulines Avenue was known for its antique shops, art galleries, hotels, and restaurants. The vibe was calmer and the crowds thinner here than on Frenchman Street, and the smells of boudin and crawfish boil spiced the air.

Our driver, clutching a muffaletta the size of his head in one hand and gripping the wheel in the other, put us out on a corner where Josie and Pedro waited for us. We milled around, searching for signs of Matty but finding no indication where his soul had gone.

“That Pierre guy said to wait, right?” Josie posted up under a flickering streetlamp. “For how long?”

Impatience and frustration warred in her voice, barely covering her fear for our brother, but we didn’t have a lot of options. This was the only lead we had to follow. “As long as it takes.”

Anticipation flavored the first thirty minutes, but it faded to an aftertaste past the first hour.

The four of us stood our ground, scanning for any sign of Matty, but we began to lose our collective faith after the second hour passed with no sign of him. Or Vi. Or any spirits. Not one. Which was odd in and of itself. The city was usually bustling with souls going about their business this time of night.

Yet another reason our canvassing hadn’t turned up any useful information—a lack of informants.

Bargaining with Pierre hadn’t been ideal, but we hadn’t had many better options, and at least I knew his information was good.

Ten minutes before midnight, I heard the rat-a-tat-tat of a snare drum and straightened from my lean.

“What is it?” Josie peered around, her hand clutching mine. “Do you see him?”

“No.” I checked with Kierce and Pedro, who both nodded. “Can you hear that?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.” Her nails dug into my skin. “That guy playing sax a street over?”

Trombone slides slowed down the drums, and trumpets struck up a lazy march.

But Josie heard none of it.

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