Page 45 of Heart and Soul
“Neoclassic,” Hillerman says. “But there’s not really a dome on the roof. It’s a tower.”
Russo’s deep voice sounds godlike in these marble chambers. “And no Latin inscriptions.”
“I’m telling you, I know every major building in this city,” I say. “Me and Hillerman already checked half a dozen others. This one’s as close as it gets to the description.”
Hillerman holds her thumb and forefinger up, a few inches apart. “The invitation is the size of a business card. The building couldn’t have had much detail. More like a logo. Could be it’s not literal at all.”
Brenner leans against a marble column. “Like maybe it just stands for something?”
“Power,” Russo guesses. “Or government. The ruling class. Extreme wealth.”
I trade looks with Jay and Hillerman. Russo just perfectly described the sorcerer community. Makes sense for a secret society of necromancers to use such a symbol.
Hillerman sounds grim when she says, “Could be the Latin inscription is the key.”
“Great, the one thing our snitch couldn’t remember,” I say. “We’re right back to square one.” I look around for something to kick, but the building is empty. Not even a wastebasket. I pull one of my Converses off and chuck it down the hall. “We have to go back to Arael and press him harder. Squeeze the hell out of him.”
“If he doesn’t remember, he doesn’t remember,” Hillerman says quietly.
Her calmness pisses me off. “Then, what? We just never go outside again? Hide behind magic wards forever? Get used to worrying that every time we step out the front door, somebody’s going to try to blow up my boyfriend?”
Jay corrects me. “Fiancé.”
A full-on canine growl escapes my throat. Tearing my other shoe off, I send it spiraling at the wall next to his head. “And you! Why didn’t you notice those guys parking right behind you? We know East Side likes car bombs. They pulled that shit on us last time. Be smarter!”
He folds his arms. “Are you done?”
The shock of Jay being snarky with me sends my irritation through the roof—I feel my fox raging to be unleashed. I want to run and pounce and snap my teeth. But at the same time, I feel relieved to see Jay asserting himself over me. If he’s ever going to be the alpha of our pack, then it’s important for me to respond appropriately to this kind of aggression. It’s up to me to foster his confidence. And so, even though I don’t feel any natural urge to submit, I lower my eyes, staring down at my feet. “Well, I’m out of shoes, so…”
Brenner pulls me into a bear hug. I cling to him desperately, not caring that we have an audience. “We’re all frustrated,” he says. “We’ll think of something.”
Russo walks down the hall to retrieve my shoe. “Brenner, you do realize, of course, where a case like this would end up, if we were in Chicago?”
Apparently, Jay hadn’t realized shit, because he has to think about it for a moment before answering, “Right in our laps.”
“I don’t get it,” I say. “Narco squad? What does this have to do with drugs?”
“Not the drugs part,” Russo says. “Theundercoverpart. This is textbook. We got intel on an actionable item, but your snitch can’t remember the details, so we gotta get a look at that thing for ourselves. We go out and get our own invite to this secret place.”
There are many obvious reasons why we can’t go down this path with Russo. Hillerman jumps on the only one we can actually tell him. “We’re known to these people. Won’t work.”
“Not me,” he counters. “I’m new in town. I could be anyone we need me to be.”
My heart revs to life. The entire scheme unfolds in my mind’s eye, and I know it will work. Hillerman—curse the woman—recognizes that look in my eye and says firmly, “Not a chance.”
“But think about it. He’s perfect for the type of community we need to infiltrate. Imposing figure, arrogantly handsome, refined, and filthy rich!”
Russo cocks his head. “Rich?”
“We can fake that.”
Jay brings up the tougher one. “Refined?”
Russo gives a belly laugh. “I know, right?”
“I have a way, trust me.”
“This isn’t a matter of trust,” Hillerman says. “I have full confidence that you could pull this off. It doesn’t hurt that Detective Russo does, in fact”—her face flashes with color—“that he looks, as you said…”
