Fear Her Wrath III: It Runs on Blood

Chapter 19

Only four girls came to our second meeting in the blind alley near Pier 73. Evie, the Hmong girl who Izzy had clobbered on her way to murder Harry Lazenby, had been discharged from Brand Hill Community Hospital only to be immediately grabbed by the cops. Apparently they didn't need to know what was really going on down on the waterfront to know that Evie Her needed to be silenced. The faces that greeted me were even more anxious than before, which made it even worse that the news I had wasn't good.

"Thanks for coming," I said. This time I hadn't turned on my voice distorter. "I wanted to let you know that I've found out who's behind these killings on the waterfront. She calls herself 'Tourniquet.' That's what she told me when I caught up with her near the Black Kilns, before she gave me the slip. She's not one of the working girls. She moved into the Fen just a few weeks ago, from across the river."

Rosie Scargill had started to sign.

"Do you know her name?" said the young interpreter. "Who she really is?"

"Yes," I said. "But her name is what makes things complicated. I'm telling you so you know what you're up against—so you can warn the other girls to stay clear. Tourniquet is Corinne Montagnese, Lucian Montagnese's sixteen-year-old daughter."

The three younger girls started, and the interpreter was so surprised that she forgot to finish translating what I'd said. Rosie looked at her in confusion and made the sign for "who," and her face turned pale as her young associate touched her hand to her chin, then brought it down to her chest like she was cradling a baby.

"Yuh kiddin'," said Lilac Hudson. "His daughter? But why—what did we do? Is it—like, is this about the union? Because they broke that up months ago, and—."

"Are you sure?" said the interpreter, speaking for Rosie.

"Completely," I said. "And this is where it gets weirder. Corinne Montagnese isn't working for her family. She's doing this to lash out at her father, because the..."

I trailed off. How was I going to explain this? Eugene Rothko's immortality machine wasn't exactly public knowledge. I mean, some people knew—like Hazel McFarren's mother—but it wasn't like they were spreading it around. There was a sense that even knowing about the machine was dangerous. Even if these girls had the right to know, I didn't want them to pay for it with their lives. I chose my words carefully.

"You know how girls on the waterfront just... disappear sometimes, right?"

They all nodded. Mischa, who was usually the most timid member of the group, cleared his throat.

"About t-two months ago, one of the other... one of Lockhart's girls, uh, she... her name was Debbie. She just... didn't come back one morning. Nobody knew what happened to her. Ralphie d-didn't want anyone to talk about it, and we... we never saw her again."

I was doing the math in my head. Two months ago was August—the last time I knew for certain the machine had been used. Odds were Mischa was on the right track without knowing it, and Debbie's blood was used to make Jacob Florian young again.

"That's what I mean. Those disappearances aren't just coincidences or bad luck. The people who run this city take them. There's a reason for it. A horrible reason that I can't explain right now. Just..."

But as the interpreter was translating my words, Rosie Scargill's eyes grew wide. She hastily signed a question, and her young companion hesitated for a moment, as though unsure how exactly to translate it.

"Do you mean that it—the thing that runs on blood—is real?"

I nodded.

"It's very real. I've seen it."