Chapter 17: The Ties That Bind
"Little mouse out on the town with her moose? Does her big sister know?"
Crowley rolled his chair back from the surveillance monitor and crossed his arms behind his head, letting his mind roam over the enticing meadow of possibilities.
How much should he tell Jeremy? He'd been working with the pure-blood for a month now. Lutar may have been Electra's favorite, but in Crowley's not so humble opinion, Jeremy was the champion of the litter. Despite his occasional fiery glow, Jeremy was as cold and ruthless as Electra. Crowley had worked hand in glove with him to set up the operation at Riffs. Jeremy valued his business acumen and relied upon him for advice.
And not just for business. Crowley had hired an interior decorator to execute Jeremy's vision for his living quarters over the club. The room he was currently in was Crowley's favorite. Inner sanctum, the ultimate pure-blood lair, call it what you will—it was an opulent den of indulgence with a high-tech wall for their cyber operations. A bank of monitors maintained constant surveillance of the rabble below. Japanese screens, oriental rugs . . . the stuffed peacocks may have been a little over the top, but they suited Jeremy.
Jeremy was the role model of what the modern pure-blood should be. Urbane, polished, decadent, tech-savvy, and most important of all—keenly aware of the necessity of maintaining a low profile. The few fangs in his service were newly turned geeks. He controlled them with an iron will. No blood feasts or slaughters that had given the bloodsuckers such a bad name.
Crowley heard footsteps outside and checked the camera on the staircase. The prince was coming. Jeremy opened the door, gave a brief nod, and sprawled on the sofa. "Checking the books?"
"That was my original intent, but I found your video feed far more entertaining. You have a packed house tonight."
"Our popularity continues to increase," Jeremy agreed. His bass voice had the educated accent of the upper classes, a refreshing change to the commoners frequenting the club. "Some of the singers were better than the usual crowd."
Crowley rewound the feed of one of the cameras to show one table. "Do you know who these people are?"
Jermy strolled over to study the display. "The one in black is Neal Caffrey. He's been here a few times and is popular with the crowd. The chap sitting to his right is a newcomer. First name's Dean. He didn't give his last name."
"It's Winchester. The other man is his brother, Sam. They're hunters."
"Are they now?" He examined the feed more closely. "Dean resembles another chap who comes here often. I wonder if they're related."
"What's his name?"
"Henry Winslow."
Crowley wrote it down. Winslow was disturbingly close to Winchester. "Vague resemblance or two peas in a pod similar?"
"They dress differently. Their singing styles aren't the same." Jeremy shrugged. "I'd have to see them side by side but offhand they're bloody close."
Another Winchester to contend with? Crowley groaned silently at the injustice of the world. What he needed was an anti-love potion to give to both sisters. "The blonde seated to Sam's left is Maia. The brunette is Chloe Bishop. She's harmless. A writer, I believe." Maia had adopted a new look. His little mouse had cast off her peasant attire. Was that Chloe's influence?
"I've only met Astrena, or I suppose I should call her Electra now," Jeremy said. "Does Maia know who I am?"
"Unclear. I would have thought Electra had told her, but we shouldn't assume anything. Maia and I have an understanding. I'll find out soon enough. As for Cheekbones Caffrey—Electra's piped into him."
"Is he the artist with the FBI?"
"That's right."
"She told me about an artist in New York she was feeding off of but didn't give his name. I found him a curious choice. The FBI isn't the standard employment for an artist."
"He's also a thief and a forger." His meatsuit Hagen had admired Caffrey. He believed they were members of the same club, even though Caffrey had worked with the FBI to ensnare him. They were both opportunists. Crowley was cut from the same cloth. Electra would appreciate that more if Caffrey were no longer in play. "The woman with Caffrey is Bianka Kaldy. Electra is, shall we say, not fond of her. She hexed her last week."
Jeremy's eyes narrowed to slits, a smile darting across his face. "Do you want me to take care of her?"
"Not yet, but have your people monitor them. Keep records of when they come here and who they're with."
"Knowledge is power?"
"And leverage." Crowley went over to the bar to help himself to a Glencraig. His empire was looking more secure by the moment.
#
Peter designated himself the head chef for Sunday brunch. Pecan pancakes with maple syrup were on the menu. His sous-chef El had made blackberry mint mules. Neal arrived in time to be given a master class in the art of making the perfect pancake.
The weather cooperated with abundant sunshine and low humidity. They carried their plates outside to eat on the patio, followed closely by their yellow Lab, Satchmo. Ever hopeful of an unexpected treat, Satch focused on Neal, the soft touch.
Over brunch, Neal related the latest news from Angela. "She called this morning. All systems are go for the Bunnicula performance next weekend. Even better, she's back to normal. She hardly let Michael and me get a word in edgewise."
El raised her copper mug. "To Angela, and the heroes who rescued her." As they clinked mugs, she added, "I know I've lectured you both for not being more open, but in this instance I approve of Angela not knowing the danger she was in. And I also want to express my appreciation for you sharing the full account with me." She turned to Neal. "When will Angela return?"
"Midmonth. She already has her next challenge to work on. Columbia will hold its first Renaissance fair this fall. Several departments are collaborating on the project."
"Doesn't New York already a Medieval festival?" El asked.
Neal nodded. "In Fort Tryon Park north of Columbia. That's what gave the organizers the idea. The Medieval Festival is on a Sunday around the first of October. People enjoy it so much—particularly the costumes, Peter—that they decided to expand it. Columbia is overseeing a Renaissance version. Many of the medieval props can be reused. The history department wants to have a reenactment of one of the battles, and the music department will hold demos of Renaissance music. That's where Angela comes in."
The Caffrey family was a large one with its roots in Ireland. Neal had many distant relatives who were musicians and made their living at the festivals. Peter suspected Angela was already contacting them. "Does Mozzie know about this?" he asked. "Is that why he's developing honey mead?"
Neal shrugged. "He does have an inside track on any events going on at the university."
"He's not using the tunnel system to spy on Columbia?"
Neal grinned. "He doesn't need to. He has official status now that he's on the SETI committee."
"You're not the only one with good news," El said. "Electra helped fast-track the community playhouse's request for funding. She called me yesterday to say that the application was approved."
"Congratulations! Have you decided on your first production?"
"With Electra providing so much assistance, it was an easy choice," El said. "We're going with the play she picked. Bell, Book and Candle."
"Will you play the witch?" Neal asked.
El nodded. "Peter, don't grumble. I'm looking forward to playing a witch, but I promise to be a very good witch. No evil spells coming from me!" Her expression grew serious. "Peter mentioned you were meeting with Chloe and Bobby yesterday. Do you have any news?"
Neal knew that Peter had told El about Astrena, but he still looked uncomfortable. Peter's stomach twisted with abrupt nausea. He put down his fork and steeled himself.
Neal swirled a piece of pancake in syrup for a moment before answering. "I may be able to serve as an expert on witches for El. It seems that I'm linked to one." He explained what had occurred the previous afternoon. "I hope you appreciate that I'm being open, and I expect you not to freak out over it." He looked pointedly at Peter. Why did he think El could handle it better than him?
"How do you want us to react?" El asked quietly.
"Like I am. Not blowing it out of proportion."
"You've been confirmed to have a link to an evil goddess who's sucking out I don't know what!" Peter blurted, unable to restrain himself. "This is not an everyday occurrence!"
"Look at it this way," Neal countered. "If Bobby's right, Sam and I've been under her influence since Buttonwood, but we're fine."
"That's debatable, at least for Sam," El pointed out. "Didn't he just spend several days in bed?"
Neal shrugged acknowledgment. "And it's possible that what Sam had was not the stomach flu, but I have a friend who had almost exactly the same symptoms. Bobby and Dean feel confident there's a way to sever the link. Chloe is working with Mozzie and Bobby to research solutions." Neal paused. "I don't like this either, but I have to deal with it. I've decided to treat it like Harry Potter's lightning scar. He lived with it. So can I."
"Need I remind you that the Harry Potter novels are entertainment, not an instructional guide?" Peter said, swatting down the notion.
Neal looked at him anxiously. He wanted Peter to be reassuring, say that everything would be okay, and they'd carry on as normal. But how could he?
"People live with far worse conditions than this for which there's no hope of a cure," Neal said. "I could have come down with leukemia or been maimed by a bullet. Stuff happens, but we deal with it."
Did he realize that he was comparing the psychic connection to a life-threatening illness? Suddenly Peter realized Neal wasn't trying so much to reassure them as himself. As he did, Peter could hear the walls snapping up to hide the curse from his friends.
That mention of Harry Potter . . . Neal had explained how he channeled someone else to deal with stress. In Shepherdstown, it was the Swamp Fox. Was it now Harry Potter? J.K. Rowling's character had his nemesis Voldemort inside his head at times. Peter used to think that Harry's situation was similar to Neal's fake memories. What kind of mind games would Astrena subject him to, all the while feeding off him like some parasite?
"You're right," El said, grasping Neal's hand. "And together we'll find a solution." Upbeat words which she tried to reflect in her manner.
Peter took a deep breath. "How do you want to handle it with your family?"
"I'd rather not tell anyone who doesn't already know anything about Astrena." He gave a wry smile. "They'll think I've gone psycho. If I start to show symptoms . . ." He shrugged.
El eyed him disapprovingly. "Not even tell Noelle?"
He looked at her appalled. "No way! I'd have to explain our entire history with witches and vampires. Then I'd have to tell her about Angela. Noelle would want to speak with her. She'd tell Angela's mother. It'd never stop. The grandparents would find out." His words trailing off, he shoved his hair off his forehead.
El pursed her lips. "You know I'm not in favor of keeping others in the dark, but I see your point. If you talk about one incident, you'll have to include everything."
"You'll need to tell the team," Peter reminded him. "No hidden gotchas, remember?"
Neal nodded unhappily. "Admitting to them I'm cursed is not something I look forward to."
"I hear ya. I felt the same way when I had to admit about vampires running amok in New Jersey. But now I'm glad I did. You'll have an easier time. The team was already concerned about you being a target. This won't be a revelation as much as a confirmation."
"Janet believes Chloe has a rare gift for working with herbs," El said. "That concoction she made to keep you from being recognized by vampires couldn't have been easy to produce. With her, Peony, and Mozzie working together, they're bound to find a way to break the hold that goddess has on you. Bobby will be searching for a solution too. There has to be some potion or spell which will work."
Neal smiled. "Without turning me into a dork? My fate's in their hands."
Dean must be experiencing the same emotions Peter was. He made a mental note to give Dean a call after Neal left.
Neal was sipping his drink, not saying anything.
"When was your last checkup?" Peter asked
Neal winced at the question. "Christie gave me a thorough physical when we returned from California. She found nothing wrong."
"Having Diana's partner as your doctor will simplify matters. You'll alert Diana along with the other members of the team tomorrow. You'll need to do the same with Christie. I'll make arrangements for her to receive the autopsy and medical reports of the artist who died in Connecticut."
Peter was glad Neal didn't try to argue him out of it. The curse was supernatural but the potential effects on his body would manifest themselves as physical symptoms. "You promise me to let me know—and I mean immediately—if you detect any change."
Neal locked eyes with him. "You have my word."
Peter knew what had to be done. He didn't like it, but he had no choice. Slamming the brakes on the con against Adler and Ydrus wouldn't remove the threat. Neal's situation would be even more precarious, and his frustration over not being able to proceed could lead to the situation quickly escalating out of control. Base case, Neal would be more inclined to take risks than ever before. From his perspective, what did he have to lose? No matter which way Peter sliced it, it was a bad situation, and Neal would need to be closely monitored. Peter took a breath. "So, you ready for this con to start?"
Neal flashed him a grateful look. "More than ever. Mozzie delivered the painting. At your signal, our contact André will spread the word. On his way back from France, Mozzie prepared a worklist of the tactics he'll use to spread rumors of the U-boat's discovery. He said he'll send you the file tonight."
"He'll make use of the sensational media, I expect."
"That plus chat rooms, social media. Rumors about a U-boat discovery will begin circulating shortly after Henry returns from his trip. In addition, I'm told there will be sensational tales of Hitler clones being spotted in Argentina."
Peter forced a smile for Neal's sake. "Do you still intend to make that ghost video?"
Neal made a face. "You caught me. When this started, I planned to tease Henry about all the reported ghost sightings there. Now, he'll get a pass. I'll figure something else out."
"Knowing you, it will be even better." Peter attempted to project the assurance he hoped he'd eventually feel. "We've all got our assignments." If Neal was channeling Harry Potter, what did that make him? Dumbledore? Surely not Hagrid. He could just see the costume.
El collected their plates. "Peter and I have already been practicing our roles."
Neal pushed back his chair. "Let me help."
"Not today, thanks. I made banana parfaits for dessert. They just need the finishing touches. I'll be right back." She glanced at Satchmo who'd rushed over when she stood up. "Your task is to keep Satchmo from following me into the kitchen. His services won't be required today."
Neal went over to a basket of toys stored on the patio and tossed Satchmo a squeaky tiger. "You remember when we arrived in Shepherdstown and you thought you saw Crowley?"
Peter rose to stand next to him. "Yeah?"
Neal smiled. "I thought I'd driven you over the edge and you were seeing things."
"Understandable. Then when you came down to breakfast the next day, talking about demonic dulcimers and vampires, I was convinced you'd lost it. I was half a mind to call up Doc Jacob and make an appointment for you."
"But your gut was right about Crowley. That's a good lesson."
"And your instincts were right about Angela. Between my gut and your instincts, we make quite a team."
"Yeah, we do," Neal said softly, his mask dropping for a moment to reveal the scared kid inside. For all his brave words, Neal was more upset than he'd let on about the curse. Seeing that glimpse of fear in his eyes was the antidote Peter needed.
"Every opponent has a weak spot. We'll find Astrena's."
Neal shot him a surprised look.
"It will take more than a goddess to break up our partnership. You have me and El, Henry, White Collar, and Mozzie on your side. Now you've got the Winchesters, Chloe, not to mention Upper Manhattan's resident psychic. You'll beat this and come out stronger than ever."
Neal swung around and pulled him into a quick one-arm hug, surprising him. Neal rarely initiated hugs. It made Peter believe his brave words would actually happen.
"Thanks, Peter. Coming from you, that means a lot."
He clasped Neal's shoulder. "It's gonna work out."
Neal stepped back and grinned. "Did we just have a chick flick moment?"
"I guess we did," he said, chuckling. "El would love it."
Notes: Will Astrena fade into the background while the team runs the U-boat con? I wouldn't count on it. Neal's adventures continue in the next story in the Caffrey Conversation series, Harlequin's Shadow. The next Crossed Lines story is Night Howls on the Hudson.