Page 78 of Heart and Soul
“Why haven’t they tried to kill us again?” she asks. “It’s been twenty-four hours of quiet. Nobody following us. No El Camino. We know they haven’t given up—demons don’t quit, literally forever. Which means we’ve only been put on hold. If we’re not the priority anymore, there must be some bigger target out there.”
“Maybe we’ll find out tonight.”
“Shayne, I think we need to be prepared for the possibility that this whole thing will lead to people you’d rather not look at.”
“What do you mean? What people?”
“There’s a black hole at the center of all this. You know about black holes?”
“Like, in outer space?”
“They’re invisible. Black holes can’t be seen, not directly. The only reason we know where they are is because we can see their influence on everything else, all the stuff swirling around them. This necromancer, we can’t see her, but her influence is everywhere. She’s got her finger on the pulse of the Detroit underworld. She’s got to be respected, especially by sorcerers. We know she must be powerful, and she must be well connected. Powerful enough and well-connected enough to win the loyalties of men like Arael Moaz and Henry Stadther.”
“If you’re talking about Madison West, then this conversation is over.”
“Who goes way back with Henry Stadther? Who kept the truth from Nora Jacobs about the vamps who killed her mom? Who warned you to stay away from King Paul? Who took you off the necromancy case and insisted on handling it herself?”
“Maybe so.”
“Not saying her name doesn’t make it any less true than not seeing a black hole. Madison West is at the center of too many things.”
“Maybe so, but you know what else? You’ve won too many times in a row, so this time I have to play the odds. The simple truth is that you can’t be right all the time.”
“That’s just stupid.”
She’s right about that. It’s very stupid, but what she’s saying about Madison West scares the shit out of me, and I’m sure as hell not going to let her see that.
After a long silence, she sighs. “But I hope you’re right.”
I squeeze the mug tightly. This conversation was exhausting before it even began. I swear coffee has never in the history of the world taken this long to brew.
“I don’t know why I brought that up. That’s not even…it’s not what we need to talk about.”
By the quaver in her voice, I can guess exactly what she thinks we need to talk about. Thankfully, she seems to lose her nerve and changes the subject. “What’s the most money you’ve ever gotten at once?”
“I don’t know. Couldn’t be much.”
“Poker winnings? A tournament?”
“Five thousand.”
“First place?”
“Third.” The coffee’s ready. I fill my mug.
“Five thousand doesn’t go very far. Buy a used car, maybe. Butfiftythousand is something else.”
“Psh. In my dreams.” I turn to face her, sipping carefully from the mug. Too hot.
“Let’s say you enter that tournament—the one for 50K. And you want it badly, so you bust your ass. And guess what?”
“I win.”
“50K. How’s that feel?”
“Dancing in the street.”
After a pause, she sighs and says, “Matt’s telling me to say ‘Great song.’”
