Page 30 of Cold Curses

“Buckley, the warehouse owner, has been out of the city on business. Multiple stops in Europe, supposedly, and Gwen hasn’t been able to reach him.”

“Is he avoiding her?” I said.

“Don’t know. That’s why we’re going to his place. If we want to figure out who bombed his warehouse, we need to start with him.”

* * *

The Gold Coast was one of the poshest and most expensive neighborhoods in Chicago. Just north of downtown, it was edged on the east by Lake Michigan. There were towering high-rise apartment buildings mixed with luxury town houses, big shady trees, and flowers edging the sidewalk. It was also the home of Navarre House, one of the four vampire houses in the city. We passed the stately marble building where its vampires resided, and stopped in front of a tower with a circular drive and valet service. The uniformed valet didn’t look thrilled about our parking the van in front of the building.

“You’ll need to move that into the garage.”

Theo, who’d driven, offered his badge. “I don’t actually. This will be a quick trip. But if it gets towed, we’ll have to come back tomorrow and the next day and…”

“Just go,” said the valet, who’d already turned his attention to the next vehicle.

We walked inside, shoes clicking on a floor of matte gray stone dotted here and there with shimmering gold. A security desk was perched in front of a bank of elevators. It was made of pale stone with the same shimmers. The desk’s single occupant was lit by an enormous overhead chandelier made of crystal tears that dripped like rain from the ceiling.

Theo held out his badge to her. “Theo Martin and Elisa Sullivan. We’re here to see Mr. Buckley.”

The human, whose cropped silver hair glimmered in the light, looked both pained and relieved. She leaned forward, glanced around to ensure privacy. “He doesn’t live here anymore, I guess.”

“He doesn’t?” I asked, and her eyes, nearly as pale as her hair, shifted to me.

“No. There’s— Well, I’m not sure what to do, and the property manager is in Aruba, and I can’t reach my supervisor, and—”

I held up a hand. “Start at the beginning.”

“Well, hedidown it. Like, past tense? But apparently someone else lives there now? Or says they do? But I can’t reach my supervisor….” She was repeating herself, and her tone was sliding from uncertain to slightly hysterical.

“Why don’t we go up,” I suggested, and slipped a little vampire glamour behind it, “and check things out for you? If there’s a problem, we’ll call the CPD, so your supervisor won’t be mad at you. And if there’s not, then no harm done.”

It took only a second for her to nod. “Mr. Buckley’s…I mean, the new…It’s 3011.” She pointed toward the bank of the elevators, and the gleaming steel doors parted in invitation.

“Thank you,” I said, and we clicked toward them.

“Any bets on what we’ll find up there?” Theo asked.

“A bomb or a person who set a bomb.”

“Yeah,” he said as the elevator glided smoothly upward, itsdestination apparently set by the young woman. “You use a little magic on her?”

“A little,” I admitted, trying not to feel guilty. I didn’t magic humans for convenience. But the bomb was on my mind. Monster echoed its agreement.

When we reached our floor, the elevator chimed its goodbye before beginning its descent again. The foyer matched the decor in the lobby: sleek, gray, crystal. We took the corridor toward 3011, which was four doors down, and Theo knocked.

No answer.

I looked at Theo, who nodded and knocked again. His hand was still poised in front of the door when it swung open.

A demon, magic prickling the air around him, looked back at us. His skin was pale, his eyes the color of a monarch butterfly’s wings, his pupils squared like a goat’s. He wore an old-fashioned nylon tracksuit, red with white stripes, and his arms seemed a bit too long for his lanky body.

“Hi,” Theo said, his voice impeccably calm. “We’re looking for Felix Buckley.”

The man blinked at us. “Doesn’t live here.” His voice was deep and heavily accented. Eastern European, at a guess.

“Oh,” Theo said, and pulled out his screen as if to double-check something. “That’s really weird, because—”

The demon slammed the door closed.