So many blobs providing blood, rotting wood in the houses giving nourishment and room and warmth for the brood, a space for the colonies, corners where nets could be weaved to catch the blood-drinking predators after the blobs, so tasty when they were full and so keeping, helping the next generation of eight-legged hunters into the world, all the waste the blobs were leaving everywhere, food and places to nest, fueling cycle after cycle of insects, providing the environment for their flourishing, and the blobs always unaware of the kingdoms beneath their feet, all around them, the millions of creatures seeing everything they did, storing the information away for Andi to read it if he wanted or not, and there were two dead bodies on that street, under the bar where the light of the giant letters at the front kept blinking in and out of existence, driving the moths crazy and making the spiders who had taken residence in the crevices between the huge screws fat and lazy.
It took Andi some effort to get his focus back on his human senses, his body still tired from the previous day. He showed George where to park his car, their arrival not yet registered by the blobs, as his inhuman informants assured him. Perfect hunting conditions. Andi went to a strip club called the Moulin Rouge first. The name evoked hopes the establishment itself crushed the moment one entered it, the interior as far from the France of the early 1900s as a hippopotamus was from becoming a ballerina. The front door was closed, as to be expected, but the back door was opened by a grumpy-looking woman with rubber gloves who was clearly cleaning the space, though Andi wasn’t sure why she made the effort. The only thing that would improve the Moulin Rouge was if a bomb went off and destroyed the whole place.
“Can we talk to Mr. Poulter, please?” Andi tried for a friendly smile and felt the corners of his mouth not cooperating. He hated people.
“Who’s asking?” The woman seemed to share his sentiment.
Already exhausted from the social interaction he so didn’t want, and with George holding back for reasons that were beyond Andi—some partner George was—he decided to take the shortcut. He took out his badge. “The police.”
She narrowed her eyes, looking at the badge more closely than was strictly necessary. Andi’s impatience grew, and she must have sensed the shift in his already foul mood because she took a step back and let them in. “Come in. James is upstairs.”
Andi nodded his thanks, and with George in tow he went up the creaking stairs, hoping and praying they wouldn’t give under their combined weight.
Pieces of wood splintering, so small it was more like dust, yet enough to eat away at the structure, reducing it bit by bit, someday bringing it down with the help of thousands of tiny mandibles crunching away on the wooden threads until yet another monument of men returned to the ground.
The ominous sounds of the steps prevented any attempt at being sneaky, and Andi wasn’t surprised to find James Poulter, proud owner of the Moulin Rouge, standing in one of the doors, eyeing them both with barely veiled disdain. “Hayes. What brings you here?”
Andi raised his hands in a placating gesture. Poulter looked worse than during their last encounter almost a year ago—his dark brown skin was sagging around his cheeks and shoulders, he seemed to have lost weight, more than was healthy for a man of six foot three, and even without the information from the arthropods Andi could tell the man was succumbing to his various addictions in a quickening pace. How he was still able to keep his business running was a small mystery Andi didn’t want to solve at the moment.
“I’m not looking for trouble. Just wondering if you heard some interesting rumors lately.”
Poulter’s brows rose to his receding hairline. “You’re askingmefor information? What makes you think I’ll help you after the all the trouble you’ve caused me?”
Andi shrugged. “Because you’re an upstanding citizen who wants to help the law?” He chuckled. “Don’t worry, just kidding. I’d never insult you with thinking you’re anything else but the human scum I’ve come to know.”
Before Poulter could give an angry answer, George touched Andi’s arm and maneuvered himself forward, brushing past Andi in an attempt to avoid contact with the wall. “Uhm, Andi, I’m pretty sure you have to be nice to people if you want them to help you. Please excuse my partner, Mr. Poulter. He doesn’t do well in situations requiring social skills.”
Poulter stared at George wide-eyed, then barked out a laugh followed by violent coughing. No, James Poulter wouldn’t be walking the earth for much longer if he kept on like that. “Don’t I know it! And who are you?”
George showed his badge with a quick flick of his wrist. “I’m Detective George Donovan, his partner.”
Poulter cocked his head in Andi’s direction. “And here I thought you didn’t do partners, Hayes. Who did you piss off?”
Andi narrowed his eyes. “None of your business. I do partners now, and his job is to be just nice enough for you to cooperate without me having to threaten you with all kinds of things, of which the abysmal state of your bar is the least concerning.”
This time it was Poulter who raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, I never said I wouldn’t help you!”
“But you thought about it!”
“Yes, I did, until your charming partner mollified me with his great manners.” The sarcasm dripping from every syllable made the corners of Andi’s mouth twitch. As bad guys went, Poulter wasn’t the worst, almost decent if measured with the very low standards of the company he kept, which was the main reason why Andi had come to him first. He briefly turned to George, giving him a wink. “See, you’re already pulling your weight.”
George just shrugged, clearly not impressed by Andi’s success so far. Andi focused back on Poulter. “Let’s get this over with. You look like you could use some sleep.”
“I could say the same about you.” Poulter rotated his shoulders, which resulted in a crunching sound that made the hair on Andi’s nape stand up. “Shoot.”
“Have you heard anything about a man calling himself the Lion?”
Andi watched Poulter like a hawk, dipping into the senses of the termites and moths under the loose boards of the ceiling at the same time.
A rush of sweat, a spike in pheromones signaling stress and fear, almost panic, not attractive at all, a warning, stay away, don’t come closer, danger, all mixed with the cloying scent of death creeping closer, of organs shutting down and blood so littered with waste it was like a toxic stream not the source of life it was meant to be…
Poulter’s eyes widened for a brief moment, his skin turned even paler than it had been before, and he started clenching his fists at his sides. “Only rumors. Nothing concrete.” Poulter was desperately trying to get himself under control, which was made more difficult by the drugs coursing through his system. The first beads of sweat started their way down his temples, silently telling Andi more than his words.
“So you have heard of him.” Andi waited. Poulter had never been good at hiding things, and experience had told Andi to simply provide an empty, soundless space Poulter would feel the need to fill. Perhaps due to the early hour—at least from Poulter’s perspective—the man cracked faster than usual, desperate to make the silence go away.
“He started doing business about two years ago, whoring out kids to rich customers. It was a small enterprise, nothing big, so the other pimps let him be. For the past six months or so, he’s been growing, though, stealing customers from the others. Problem is nobody knows anything about him, who he is or where he lives. Never shows himself, always uses subcontractors, doesn’t even seem to live here. There were a few who talked openly about getting rid of him, but they all have mysteriously vanished. Now we’re all keeping our heads down, waiting for his next move. I personally don’t think he wants to take over all of the business, he seems to be focused on the richer clientele, and that’s all I need to know when it comes down to it.”
Andi managed to keep his frustrated sigh in. What Poulter was telling him matched the information Skipper had given them, and was what Andi had expected, though secretly he had hoped for something more substantial.
