He’s the storyteller again, the man with so many words, words that hold me captive whether it be in the waking hours or in the dream realm.
“The scrawny guy was wasted, so it didn’t take much for security to disarm him, but in the scuffle, one of the security guards was caught with the knife, a deep slash to his forearm—not exactly as Ed had foreseen, but close enough. Ed was visibly shaken, more frightened at the repercussions where Fortunato was concerned than he was over the confrontation, so it was at that point that I steered him out of the casino and into one of my cars.”
“You stepped in, just like Victor Rue did with you,” I confirm.
Valdemar dips his head in agreement.
“I asked him about his gift, learned quickly that it was getting out of control. The images would come like flashes in his mind, and he didn’t know what to do with them or how to control them. He told me that no matter what he did, he didn’t seem to be able to change the future, to stop whatever he saw happening, that even when he tried to intervene, the event would happen anyway, if slightly altered. And the whole time he spoke to me, he was clawing at the sides of his head as if trying to remove it from his shoulders.”
Hot sweat gathers at the base of my neck.
“Can you imagine what it must have been like to see things before they happened?” Valdemar asks. “To have visions of things yet to come, to know the future before it’s played out, and know that you have no way of stopping it?”
My voice cracks, my throat dry. “He hardly ever talked about it. I’m not sure whether that was because he didn’t want me to worry or he just didn’t know what the hell was going on.” Truthfully, I always thought he had it under control. As much as I was living with seeing the dead, he was living with seeing thefuture, but I can begin to see now just how impossible his life had been and how distressing it must have become.
“As a Raven Hand, I’d never come across such a gift, but I assured him we would work things out. He was relieved to have found someone to talk to, to share his burden. And it was then that he joined us to become a Raven Hand like he was always meant to.”
The timeline plays out in my memories. I can recall Ed being withdrawn in his late teens, pulling away from society and locking himself in his room for days on end. Then he got a job at the casino, and I barely saw him at all due to the night shifts.
“As much as Adolphe Fortunato is a slimy serpent, he’s also an influential figure in this city. The Raven Hands have always tried to stay clear of him, but a few years after Ed joined us, he discovered, quite by accident, just some of the things Adolphe Fortunato was up to.”
I leap in. “You used my brother as a spy.”
“No. I would never have put Ed or any Raven Hand in that position. And this was nothing to do with Ed’s gift. This was something he witnessed while at work.”
“What did he see?” I ask.
Valdemar’s tongue pushes over his front teeth as if he’s recalling the taste of this tale.
He lowers his voice. “Ed believed Adolphe Fortunato was trialling the use of a new drug—something that would lower inhibitions.”
“I’m not sure dealing drugs from inside the casino would be much of a story. People would be more shocked if itwasn’tgoing on. You said yourself that everyone knows what kind of businessman Adolphe Fortunato is,” I point out.
Fortunato’s exterior exudes the air of a confident businessman, the man who’s made sound investments and amassed an empire due to hard work and a head for business,but underneath the façade, everyone knows the unspoken reality of the lawlessness, the drugs, the weapons, and God only knows what else he deals in.
“You misunderstand me, angel. This wasn’t to do with drugs being dealt in his casino. This was to do with him slipping a drug into the drinks of gamblers,” Valdemar explains.
I sit up, the reporter in me jolted awake. “Wait—you’re saying he was spiking people’s drinks?”
“Think about it. People go to the Fortunato to drink and gamble, but what are the things that hold them back and stop them from making stupid bets and ill-considered judgments?”
I inhale deeply, considering his question before answering. “Their emotional stability. Time to think and take in all the relevant information before making an informed choice. Fatigue. The list goes on.” I shake my head. “But all those inhibitions can be lowered with alcohol, so why not just pour everyone double measures at the bar and get them all wasted?”
“You ever been to a casino?” he asks.
I roll my eyes, so he continues.
“They’re classy establishments. They don’t let you in when you’re rip-roaring drunk, and they certainly don’t let you stay when you lose the ability to stand around a table. No, alcohol wasn’t the way. But this new drug was different. It made people drop their defences and abandon their analytical thinking, just like alcohol, but without affecting their cognitive functioning. From the outside, people would look sober, calm, and totally in control, yet inside, the brain would be thinking, ‘Fuck it, let’s gamble ten grand on black thirty-one.’” He wafts his hand over the table as if laying down the cash.
“How would they even begin to do something like that?” But even as I ask the question, I see Adolphe Fortunato’s right-hand man and confidant, Dr Tem-Pest. No one knows what he’s a doctor of, exactly, but he’s been working with Fortunato foryears, pulling strings and whispering in ears. He would have the know-how, and a man like Fortunato would jump at the chance of turning over his revenue, of expanding his empire even further, and just the sheer possibility of manipulating people at his whim.
My palms are sweating. This is a reporter’s wet dream—the big scoop—but I’m beginning to see why Valdemar has said I can’t publish this story, as there’s no way on earth Fortunato would stand for this. I would be dead before it even hit Captain’s desk.
Valdemar sits back, picking up where he left off. “One night, Ed overheard a conversation between Fortunato and a barman named Angelo. Fortunato put Angelo on one of the quieter bars and told him, ‘G and T only.’ Ed guessed Angelo was to spike gin and tonics. So, he kept watch during his shift, taking note of the people who bought a G and T and how their behaviour changed during the evening.
“Ed told me it was like watching the transformation from Jekyll to Hyde. They would start the night cautious, only placing small bets, keeping close track of their money, and keeping their wits about them, but within the hour of that one drink, they would be gambling large sums, throwing their money around like it was water, and not batting an eyelid when they lost thousands of pounds.”
“Jeez.” The implications of this are starting to slot into place. “How long did the drug last? What about when these people left the casino?” I ask.
