Crack the Spine, page 18
“That’s just a lot of words without the parameters,” Kendall sassed. “But maybe, as a tree yourself, you could help us save another one.” When the director drew up for another let down, Kendall said to Marcélite, “I’m beginning to think the Lyceum is the paper company in disguise.”
“Watch your mouth,” Director Williams said.
“Excuse me,” replied Marcélite. “She’s got a point. Your errand boy did share my file, did he not? ‘Acceptable loss,’ Patrice? You haven’t said one word to me about that.”
“We’re not . . .” Director Williams walked in a circle. “Lord, y’all are gonna get me fired. The Lyceum is not funded to be the shield humanity needs or deserves. Money flows from the top even less when the public eye can’t see it.” Director Williams approached Frankie and laid her business card on the counter. “Email me the pic. If you use the Visage program on your computer, it’s going to fry that one too. They put a dummy copy out there just for that purpose.”
With color in her cheeks, Frankie inspected the card and picked up Marcus’s phone. “Sent.”
Using her own phone, Director Williams did the needful. She grunted and scrutinized the results.
“What?” Marcélite asked.
“Redactions. I don’t have the clearance to remove them. This one has been busy. She’s slippery. A kumiho, a fox, the evil kind. But it says she’s been dormant since the 1930s.” After pacing for a moment, she turned off her phone and dropped it into her blazer pocket. “There. You now have everything I can tell you about her. You catch on fire this time, ladies, you burn.” She hesitated while staring at Marcélite until guilt lowered her gaze. She scowled at no one. “Give me that computer you stole. I won’t make any promises anything’ll come of it, but I’ll have an agent inspect it.”
Kendall picked up the tower. “Thank you. I’ll carry it for you.” After escorting the director out and placing the computer in her car, Kendall beheld the director’s departure without another word spoken. When she returned to the surgery, she noticed the director had not taken the chill from the air with her.
Disconnecting her paraphernalia, Frankie began packing. “A kumiho. I’m glad I’ll know what I’m walking into this time. Thank you for your help.”
“Do you even know what that is?” Kendall asked. “You’re not facing—Frankie, stop! You’re not doing this alone. Marcélite . . .” Kendall’s heart sank from her sorrowful countenance.
“I’m sorry. Hecate would have me protect Leslie and Fern, and I’m not in a position to force Leslie into any serious decisions right now. It wouldn’t be humane to burden her before she’s comfortable enough to see her options clearly. Her decision will impact her and her sister, possibly for the rest of their lives, Kendall. I won’t put them in a system they don’t want to be a part of. Leif was right. People like them, they’re the reason we’re doing this in the first place. They’re our end goal.” Marcélite opened the baggy with their phones and passed them both of theirs. “There’s ambition, and there’s blind ambition. You can’t afford the latter when the rest of us will pay the consequences. I suggest you both go to Frankie’s hotel room if you want to keep looking.”
A sense of betrayal loomed in Kendall’s chest. Her disbelief that Marcélite was making her choose stung, especially when she saw it mirrored on Frankie’s face. “Cool.” She got out her keys and refused to look at Marcélite. “Let’s take the Mercedes.”
Chapter 21: Thicker Than Water
Kendall’s phone vibrated over a dozen times as messages began streaming in now that it was charging. All the texts were from Lacey.
She replied, I had my phone returned. But going dark again for work. No news on your request. See you soon.
She fell into the comfy, oversized chair as Frankie worked away at the desk across the king-size bedroom. Even in the evening, the corner room felt light and airy with windows in two walls. Being surrounded by curtains, furniture, and modern amenities eased the blow of losing her friends’ aid in finding Tara. Some. Hell, having her phone in her hands again made her feel more whole. Yet the damn hotel didn’t have a pool.
“Michelle Walters?” Frankie asked. “These are her names. In South Korea, Ha-Yun Bu. In Singapore, Qiao Goh. Berlin, Asuka Nakamura. And Dallas, Michelle Walters.”
Kendall furrowed her brow. “Nothing closer than Dallas?”
“No. She’s the owner of the Cheogchu Corporation, which she purchased under her Korean name in 1913. Importing, exporting. Quelle surprise. There are photos dating back to the 1930s.” Frankie scrolled through them.
Kendall got up to see. “And she looks exactly the same as she did today, minus the fancy car. How nice for her.” Kendall stood up straight and rubbed her chin. “I can’t help but notice the Lyceum has taken quite an interest in her over the years. Why aren’t they interested now?”
“This is only what we can see. The redactions Director Williams mentioned didn’t come along with the file she sent.” Frankie clicked on the highlighted corporation name. Her shoulders slumped when a spreadsheet opened, listing the properties belonging to Cheogchu Corporation. Defeat tinged her words. “Look at all of these motels.”
A quick scan of the list revealed a global operation. From Louisville to Jakarta. The list went on for pages. “Don’t give up. We’ll find her.”
“Kendall, you’re very nice to me. But Marcélite is right. This . . . organization? Crime ring? It’s huge! Tara could be anywhere, and there’s no list of buyers or associates in any of this.”
“Then we take on the next motel. The closest one. Where is it?”
Frankie delivered a flat stare. “An incubus. Three changelings! And a gumi—kumiho?—whatever that woman is! The two of us can’t even repeat what we’ve already done.”
Kendall fell back to sit on the cushy bed.
Whispering, Frankie said, “This is too dangerous for us.”
“Maybe. But who else is going to try to find her? The Lyceum won’t. The police? The FBI? They’re both crapshoots as to whether you get a human.” Her argument didn’t rouse Frankie’s spirits. “If we give up on Tara, she’s gone for good. We’re not doing that.”
Frankie lost herself in her thoughts.
Someone playfully knocked on the door in the rhythm of “Shave and a Haircut.”
Kendall spied through the peephole and felt relief wash over her to the point her eyes moistened. She unbarred and opened the door.
Carrying two pizzas, Jian came in, followed by Diego with a plastic bag and sodas.
Leif cradled a few books from his library. “Marcélite said it was a ‘kumiho.’ These are all of my Eastern Asian folklore tomes.”
Jian pointed at Kendall’s face. “See? She’s thinking exactly what I said. ‘Why? We have the internet.’”
“They might be useful,” Kendall said in Leif’s defense.
“Not as useful as pizza. Frankie, eat up. It’s Giovanni’s. You’ll never look at life or pizza the same way again.”
Her faith restored, Frankie wore a small grin for Kendall, which was returned tenfold. “Yep, just a sec. And hello, I’ll ask you to remember I’m half-Italian. Be careful raising my expectations around food, especially pizza after I’ve lived in New York for almost four years.”
Diego fished a paper plate out of the bag he was carrying. “Raise your expectations. I’ll fix you a plate.”
“Wait. Hold up,” Kendall said. “You’re not staying here, right? I appreciate you guys helping us but . . .” She pointed at the king-size bed.
“Nah,” answered Jian. “We’re exiled from the warehouse too. By choice. With love. We’ve got a room upstairs.”
“Jian’s treat,” Leif said.
Jian turned as red as his t-shirt. “Yeah, well. I don’t quit. I need to see this through. I’ve already invested too much for us not to find her. Otherwise, what a colossal waste of time and money!”
Sentiment being the one thing that kept Jian quiet, they assembled their plates and began eating in peace. Quiet, on the other hand, was the trigger that got Diego talking.
“Well, if we find Tara, I’m cooking tomorrow. I told Leslie and Fern about my super yummy-in-my-tummy enchilada casserole. Consider your expectations raised again, Frankie. Not to brag, it’s amazing.”
Through a mouthful of pizza, Jian cried, “No. No! No! No. It is not!”
“You said you liked my enchilada casserole.”
“That was before my insides turned to hot, curdled soup.”
Frankie set her slice down and got back to work.
“Maybe you’re lactose intolerant—ooh, or you could have celiac disease! It could be the gluten. They’re flour tortillas.”
“D, if that were true, I’d be the first Taotie with a food allergy in history! If anything, that’s the ultimate review on your cooking. ‘One star: An eat beast couldn’t stomach that shit.’”
Diego gasped. “Bitch.”
“Bitch or not . . .” Kendall smiled with a wince. “Me too.”
“O-M-G. I’m mortified. Leif?”
“If you remember, Kendall and I spent the evening at the store.” He explained to Frankie, “The warehouse only has one bathroom.”
“Oh, I am aware.”
“Which means Marcélite—” Diego’s hands covered his face. “OK, I can die now. I’ll never cook again.” He buried his face in a pillow and groaned.
“Hey! Hey!” Jian cheered. “One victory already! Look at it this way, D. Whoever the goddess of cooking is, is not your goddess. One more off the list.”
“Hestia,” replied Diego. “In Greek mythology. In Norse mythology, Andhrimnir slaughters a cosmic pig to eat every night. The Aztecs had a god named Xipe Totec, who flayed his own skin to feed humanity.”
Frankie groaned. “How do you people eat while talking about this stuff?”
“Well, whatever deity works for you,” Kendall said in a serious tone. She put her hand on Diego’s knee. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot that all three of you are here.” To cut the awkwardness, she wiped her fingers clean on a napkin and gestured for Leif to toss her a book.
Half an hour passed before Leif interrupted the silence by reading aloud. “‘The kumiho or gumiho is the Korean version of the nine-tailed fox spirit. This particular version is always portrayed in a negative or evil light. They have been rumored to wander cemeteries in half-human form, dig up corpses, and eat their hearts. In their mouths, they hold a yeowoo guseul, a mystical bead said to contain knowledge. With this bead, the kumiho absorbs human energy through a deep kiss, sending the yeowoo guseul into their victim’s mouth and reclaiming it with their tongue. Should the human swallow the bead instead and observe the sky, land, and people, they will gain preternatural knowledge.’”
“OK,” Jian said. “I’ll kiss her.”
“Get in line,” replied Kendall. “So how do we stop her?”
Leif shook his head. “It does not say. But ‘some believe a kumiho that has not eaten human flesh for a thousand days may become human.’”
“That’s not a long-term commitment I’m interested in.” Kendall raised the book she had been reading. “In this story, Jung kills a kumiho who has been feeding off his peers with a little stabby-stabby. Seems simple enough.”
Leif frowned. “This works for me.”
Frankie recapped, “So, she drains people’s energy with a bead in her mouth, eats flesh, and can turn into a fox with up to nine tails? I guess she does look a little foxlike. Hmph. I always liked foxes. Now I won’t be able to look at them. I will be purging my plushies when I get home.”
“Fox spirits are not considered evil in other parts of Asia,” Leif said. “Do not judge your toys too harshly. They may be kitsune or quingqiu.”
But Kendall had a more pressing concern on her mind. “Another thing we need to consider is a kumiho enlisted an incubus and three changelings for one of her properties. What else might we be up against?”
“I do not want to see another incubus,” Leif said.
“That’s cool,” replied Jian. “Kendall and I can lead—if we know where to go. Frankie, give us some good news.”
“The Cheogchu Corporation only have three properties in Louisiana. I think that counts as good news. But, Kendall, you remember those casinos we drove past in Biloxi? She owns one of them.”
Kendall got up to read over Frankie’s shoulder. “The Forum Casino? So much for low-key drifter motels.”
“It makes sense,” Frankie said. “Casinos are more secure than most prisons. The second you walk in, you’re tagged and tracked by cameras. We won’t be able to snoop around without raising suspicions.”
“Mhmm,” Diego agreed. “My cousin Luciana had her quinceañera at a casino in Kansas City. Her father, my uncle Victor, won seventeen thousand dollars by playing the Elvira slot machine. But he couldn’t stop. He was obsessed with making her boobs bounce. He was all ‘I have to get the booby prize!’ He liked it because the spinning wheels on her boobs looked like tassels. Anyway, he spent twenty thousand dollars before my abuela called him an embarrassment and had his brothers haul him back to Springfield. Not relevant, I know. But he missed his daughter’s quinceañera.”
Jian shook his head. “The tragedies you have witnessed. You should probably go upstairs and contemplate how best to recover.”
“I was thinking I’d meditate,” Diego replied, standing. “There’s a goddess who might help us, even if she and I don’t align for longer. She’s a total party girl! A casino would be her ideal temple.”
Proud he was actually going to try it, Kendall smiled at him. “You think she’ll give you insight into what’s happening there? Or do you mean help in the fight too?”
“All I can do is ask.”
Frankie let out a long exhale. “I’ll try to. Maybe I can get through their security far enough to get on a few personal devices. It would help if I were on their network already.”
“So, let’s get a room,” Jian said. “What’s one more charge on my plastic at this point?”
“That would make arming ourselves easier,” added Leif. “We can sneak our weapons in with our luggage. I can go to the warehouse and get what we need.”
“Tomorrow,” Kendall said. “We should all get some rest, especially you, Frankie. Let’s plan on visiting the Forum Casino first thing in the morning.”
Chapter 22: The Spine
The Forum Casino’s lobby lived up to its name. From haute couture to beachy souvenir shops, stores for everyone’s tastes had been stuffed between the marble ionic columns spanning the marketplace, which wrapped around the first floor. Unfortunately, the alluring rosewood and vanilla perfume drifting from Chanel couldn’t mask the smoky fug seeping down the escalators. Intended to lure everyone up into the madness, an auditory circus of chiming, clinking, and bells nearly drown out the shoppers’ echoing voices and footsteps. It worked. Despite the early hour, folks streamed past the hotel reception and upward to empty their wallets, many of whom appeared to have done so long ago.
Finally, it was Jian and Kendall’s turn to leave the velvet rope corral and approach a red-blazered front desk agent at Reception. Her dark brown hair swept up in a bun, the mature Latina wore a mulberry smile that relayed she wasn’t getting paid enough for any of it. “Checking out?”
“Checking in,” replied Kendall. “If you have anything available. We don’t have a reservation. But we’ll need two rooms, adjoining if we can.”
“It would be our pleasure to accommodate you.”
Kendall tittered at the lack of pleasure in the woman’s voice.
Jian passed over his ID and credit card. “Do you have anything on the top floor? We’d like a good view of the gulf, if possible.”
“Sorry, no. The top four floors are booked with conferences. But I do have an ocean-view suite that connects to two doubles on the tenth floor. Will that work for you?”
“Perfect. How many floors are there anyway?”
“Sixteen.”
“Wow,” Kendall said. “Do you have a penthouse too?”
“No, ma’am.” Staving off their questions, she started reciting a well-rehearsed list. “Lounges are on the Colosseum level, up the escalators. The Temple of Saturn is located there as well. That’s where you’ll find the cashiers and currency exchange. There is an all-you-care-to-eat buffet each morning at the Curia restaurant, just around the corner to your left in the Sacra Via.”
“All-you-care-to-eat?” Jian repeated. He wandered a few feet in that direction and inhaled deeply. “We’ll see about that.”
With her first genuine smile, the agent laid his cards and their keys on the counter. “The elevators are to the right of Reception, through the Arch of Titus. Please enjoy your stay at the Forum.”
After collecting the others and their luggage, they reentered the persistent gust of cool wind released through the automatic sliding doors. No one said anything from the moment they entered the lobby until the doors to their rooms were opened.
Upon seeing the suite, Jian whistled. “Swankier than I expected.”
Despite being a non-smoking room, an acrid tinge hung in the air. The view, however, did not disappoint. Wrapping around the corner, the suite’s living room overlooked the pier and the casino’s marina on the gulf. Shimmering waves rolled in at an easy rhythm on the beach. Kendall wished she could walk out into them and feel the water splashing up her legs.
When Diego opened the adjoining room door for Frankie, he asked, “We’re getting room service, right?”
“Dude! Just because it’s on my card doesn’t mean I’m fronting this operation, you know? We’re all—” He exaggeratedly gestured between the five of them. “All pitching in.”
“Order what you want,” Kendall said, still staring out to the sea. She agreed mostly to stave off the divulgence of another Salazar family secret. “Within reason. We don’t want to contribute to what happens here more than we have to.” She turned to face them. “On that note, we should make the most of this necessary evil and start poking around.”
