“You could say that,” I said.
“We handled the foreclosure auctions when they went bankrupt,” he explained as he pulled a file out. “This was years ago, though.”
He kept one hand held up in surrender while holding the file out with the other.
“What did they get to keep?” I said, nodding to the file. “Any properties?”
“Not much,” he admitted. “It was a terrible financial situation for them. They apparently even tried to get a few fae to do a luckcharm on their finances, and went to human banks to get credit extended. None of it helped, they lost everything.”
I laid the file on the table, keeping the gun on him, and flipped through, stopping when I saw a photo of a cemetery.
“What’s this?” I said, pointing to it.
Eduardo leaned forward carefully, taking a look at the photo. “Oh. That.”
“Go on.”
“They kept a few hundred thousand dollars in protected money from an insurance payout they’d put together as a sort of golden parachute for their sons, and they kept the location of their ancestral home. It originally had a house on it, but that was torn down back in the eighteenth century. The basements and cellars were repurposed and renovated into crypts. Due to it being anactivecemetery, no one was able to foreclose on it. They can never build or live on it, nor sell it. Once the living heirs pass away, it will revert to the local human government. It’s basically worthless.”
A sudden explosive surge of hope lit up deep in my chest. I stared at the photo,knowingthis was it. Somewhere on that property, Veronica and Wendy were being kept.
“What’s the address?” I snarled, turning to glare at the man.
He must have seen the savage rage in my eyes. He took a hesitant step back. “Uh…it’s on the back of that photo. It’s about ten minutes outside the city.”
I yanked the photo from the file, flipped it over, and quickly memorized the address before shoving it in my pocket. Backing toward the door, I kept the gun on him.
“No one knows I was here,” I said. “You understand?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding so fast, he looked like a bobblehead I got as a kid at the ballpark.
“Good.”
Shoving the door back open, I stepped out onto the street and turned away, slipping my gun into my holster. After casting a glance around, I pulled my phone free and dialed.
“Hello?” Toby’s squeaky voice said.
“It’s me again,” I said. “I need some more help.”
“God,” he groaned. “Uh, okay. What’s up?”
“I need something that will rain down hell,” I said. “Imagine I’m coming for your worst enemy. What would you give me?”
There was a long pause, then he said, “I think I have something. It’ll need a bit of tinkering before it’s fully ready, though. When do you need it?”
“Two hours.”
“Ohshit!Uh, okay.”
As I walked, I called in every favor I had with anyone I’deverhelped or done a job for. Other weapons makers, priests who could bless the weapons, and people who could re-up the protection charms on my clothes. If I was going in, I was going in loaded.
When I reached my car, I got in and sped into the night. There was someone I needed to talk to. Someone whoneededto answer for what happened earlier with Percival Tacitus.
I screeched to a stop outside the strip mall and got out of the car, pulling my pistol free. Without hesitation, I aimed at the glass doors and fired three times, shattering the glass into tiny fragments.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Sloan shouted, rushing in from the back temple.
I aimed the gun directly at his face, bringing the man to a halt.
