"Actually, they don't," I said.
"No?"
"They're underground. Which is never a good place to be in Miami. Benicio swears they take every precaution, but if there's hurricane flooding, what do you think they're going to save down there? The archives or the prisoners?"
"True," Mom said.
"Look," Toby said. "I supplied Jackie with names, not drugs."
"Jackie Medina," I asked to be clear, and he nodded.
"The Cortezes aren't going to care," my mother said. "Not if it gives them a chance to get you off the street. You're screwed, Toby. Or you are without my help. Because the guy who gave Medina the drugs also cast a very special spell."
She reached down and cracked open her case. Light flooded out. "You see, Toby, you were wrong. I haven't been hiding out. I've been dead. Until a sorcerer crossed me over, I was walking around the afterlife. And I was carrying this."
She pulled out her sword. Toby jumped back, knees knocking his laptop and sending it toppling as he scuttled onto the sofa.
Mom swirled the sword, the blue steel leaving a swath of light.
"Do you know what this is, Toby? One hint--it's not a light saber."
"I--I don't--"
"Take a guess." She grabbed it by the blade and held it out to him. "Better yet, take a hold. Try it out."
He reached for the pommel. When his fingers touched it, he let out a shriek and fell back, his hand raised. Blisters popped up on every fingertip. "Holy Mother of God," he whispered.
"So you're a religious man? That's good. Makes this easier. If this sword just burned a fire demon, I'm sure you can guess what it is. And that this"--she grasped it by the pommel, then tossed it up and caught it by the blade--"is not a party trick. All this is to say that I can protect you from the Cortezes. And that you might be wise to help the cause by giving me the information I need."
Toby took one more look at the sword and decided he was feeling chatty. Mom settled back onto the sofa, leaving the sword glowing on the coffee table as a reminder.
"I know Roberts," he muttered when Mom finished explaining and identifying the culprit. "Should have turned his name over to Jackie. I would have, too, except that he has a wife and an ex-wife and a kid, so someone would miss him."
"You had contact with him?"
"Me and Roberts don't travel in the same circles. He was one of those guys who pretends he's too good for us. Squeaky clean. Only he wasn't, was he? Damn it. If only I'd known. He cost me a sweet income stream. Jackie paid a grand for every name."
"He cost her a lot, too," I said. "Her life. I'm sure you're upset about that."
It took him a moment to find the right expression of regret. Then he gave us everything he knew about Roberts, which wasn't much. It wasn't until we handed over Roberts's contacts list that we started getting somewhere.
"Oh, yeah, I know a few of these guys." He rattled off names and supernatural types for half a dozen of Roberts's entries. Two were in the business of providing basic services for fellow supernaturals.
"This guy's a doctor." Toby pointed to a name on the list I was writing. "Charges more than a frigging private clinic, but he's good. Discreet, too. So's she." He pointed to the only woman's name on the list. Amanda Griffin.
"What's she do?"
"Hooker. For guys who don't want to worry about hiding their powers. Amanda's a real sweetie. Says most supernaturals want to do more talking then screwing. They just like being able to talk freely. Which is a shame. She's a good talker, but she's even better at screwing."
"Uh-huh. Well, Roberts seemed to need a lot of talking. If she's the A in his calendar, they were chatting a few times a week."
"Son of a bitch," Toby muttered. "Amanda never even told me she was seeing him. She knows I would have liked some dirt on the guy. Would have paid well for it, too."
"You did say she was discreet."
"Sure, but we could have blackmailed the bastard real good."
I looked at Roberts's calendar. "I don't have a lot of experience hiring hookers, but I'm going to guess three times a week is a bit excessive."