Industrial Magic - By Kelley Armstrong Page 0,69

watched him struggle for a moment, then jumped up and went over to help.

“Mmm, that smells great,” I said. “Soup?”

“Seafood chowder. Not quite the caliber you’re accustomed to, but it was this or split-pea.”

“Good choice.” I picked up a crystal glass of ruby red liquid. “Wine?”

“Not when you’re taking these,” he said, plunking my medication bottle on the tray. “It’s cranberry juice. Dessert is crème brûlée—a more appetizing alternative to pudding.”

I grinned up at him. “You’re the best.”

“No shit,” Jaime said. “Last time I was sick, the guy I was seeing brought me a bottle of ginger ale…and expected me to pay him back for it.”

Lucas took a mug and a second crème brûlée from my tray and laid them in front of Jaime. “If you’d prefer something else, the kitchen is open for a few more minutes.” He placed cream and sugar containers beside the coffee. “And, no, you don’t have to pay me back for it.”

“I am definitely dating the wrong guys.”

Lucas started unwrapping his sandwich, then paused. “Should we eat on the road?”

“Ten minutes isn’t going to make a difference. Eat your sandwich, then we’ll go.”

“Go where?” Jaime said.

I explained the evidence against Weber, and how we were certain he’d obtained those lists for the killer. “The only way we’re going to find out who wanted those lists is to talk to Weber. So you can help us by doing that, if that’s okay.”

“Well, umm, sure. Anything I can do. I thought we’d start by contacting Dana again but, well, I guess contacting this Weber guy makes more sense. We know where he’s buried, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure they haven’t buried him yet,” I said.

“They have,” Lucas said. “Cabal policy. They inter their dead immediately.”

Jaime nodded. “Otherwise, it’s like propping open the door to Tiffany’s and going home for the night.”

Lucas caught my confused look. “Supernatural remains are considered extremely valuable necromantic relics.”

“Yep,” Jaime said. “Other people go to the black market for DVDs and diamonds. Us necros get to buy decomposing body parts. Another reason why I give thanks every day for this incredible gift I’ve been given.” She scraped the last bit of custard from the ramekin and licked the spoon. “Okay, this wasn’t quite what I had inmind for my evening, but let’s do it. Time to wake the recently deceased.”

Jaime had just finished her final Orlando show when she heard the news about Weber. She’d then rented a car for the two-hundred-mile trip to Miami, so we now had a vehicle. Lucas drove because he was the only one who knew where to find the cemetery. But, as I soon discovered, that wasn’t the only reason. When we hit the outskirts of Miami, Jaime put on a sleeping mask. At first, I thought she was taking a catnap. Then I realized that allowing a necromancer to know where the Cabal buried their dead would be a serious security breach. Not that I could imagine Jaime skulking around a moonlit cemetery with a shovel, but I gave her bonus points for blindfolding herself rather than put Lucas in an awkward position.

The Cabal didn’t bury their dead in a municipal cemetery…or any recognizable cemetery at all. Lucas drove past the city limits, then made so many turns that I was lost even without a blindfold. Finally he pulled off the road and headed down a thin strip of land flanked on both sides by swamp. A mile later, the road ended. I squinted out the window.

“This is the cemetery?” I said.

Lucas nodded. “It’s hardly conducive to graveside visits, but the alligators tend to discourage trespassers.”

“Alligators?” Jamie tugged down her blindfold. “Jesus, we’re in the middle of the fucking Everglades!”

“The periphery, to be precise. The Everglades are comprised primarily of saw-grass plains, not swampland as you see here. This would be Big Cyprus Swamp, which is technically located outside the Everglades National Park.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that, then. Jesus, we’re in the middle of a fucking swamp!”

“Actually—”

“Don’t say it,” Jaime said. “We’re not in the middle of a swamp, we’re at the edge, right?”

“Yes, but we will be going into the middle, if that makes you feel better.”

“Oh, believe me, it does.” She peered out into the dark tangle of trees, hanging moss, and stagnant water. “How the hell are we going to get to the middle?”

“We need to take the airboat.” He glanced at me. “If you do see an alligator, your new shock spell should be ample deterrent.”

“Great,” Jaime muttered. “And what are us nonspell-casters

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