Free Abracadaver (Esther Diamond Novel) by Laura Resnick Page B

home, get a hot meal into him, and take Nelli for her late walk so that he doesn’t have to.”
    “Right. Of course.” John nodded, obviously understanding my concern. “He does look pretty worn out. Okay, well, maybe next time?”
    “Sure.” I pulled out my phone as I said over my shoulder, “Max? What’s the name of that pet transport service you use? I really don’t think we’ll get a taxi.”
    Looking at the face of my phone, I realized I hadn’t checked my messages yet.
    “Oh, don’t call a service,” said Nathan. “John will give you a lift in the hearse.”
    “Absolutely,” said John.
    “How thoughtful,” Max said with a tired smile.
    “Oh.” I put my phone back in my pocket. “Thanks.”
     • • • 
    Max lived in a roomy but spartan apartment above his perfectly legitimate business interest, Zadok’s Rare & Used Books, which was in an old townhouse on a narrow street in the West Village.
    The bookstore had a small, fiercely loyal customer base, and it got some foot traffic from curious passersby. But the shop was primarily an inconspicuous home base for Max’s demanding role as the Magnum Collegium’s local representative, responsible for protecting New York and its inhabitants from Evil.
    His laboratory, where strange and magical things happened, was in the cellar below the store. Among other things, it was down there that he had conjured Nelli last year. Max’s mystical familiar had entered this dimension as a large, furry, enthusiastic champion in the perpetual confrontation against Evil—and had scared me to death at the time, before I realized she wasn’t some voracious hellhound intent on ripping out our throats.
    Looking at her now, I reflected—not for the first time—that she’d be a more convenient comrade if she could speak, or write, or at least mime. If only she could
tell
us why she had reacted so hysterically to encountering Quinn. Was it something about the way he smelled? Or the way he moved? Was there an evil light glowing in his eyes that the rest of us couldn’t see? Did other dogs react negatively to him, or was the triggering factor something that only a mystical being could sense? I suspected it was the latter, since Quinn’s life would be awfully inconvenient if every canine who saw him went as crazy as Nelli did today.
    I had initially hoped Nelli had made a mistake—perhaps confused Quinn with someone or something else and was reacting on the basis of misidentification. But after what had happened at the funeral home as soon as Quinn visited the place . . . No, it was no mistake. I felt certain of that. Nelli had definitely sensed something dangerous about him.
    But
what?
    “I wish Nelli could talk,” I said to Max in frustration.
    “If she could talk, then she might not be able to detect dangerous entities or contribute powers to our work which I lack,” he said placidly. “A mystical familiar possesses gifts which are not available to other types of beings. Just as you and I possess the gift of speech, which is not available to an individual of Nelli’s nature.”
    “Hmph.”
    “This soup is delicious,” said Max. “Exactly what I needed.”
    “It is good,” I agreed, and I ate some more of mine.
    John had dropped us off here a little while ago, along with Nelli (who fit comfortably in the roomy back of the hearse), and was now on his way to Queens to drop off Lucky. A widower with a daughter who lived out of state, Lucky had sold the family home and bought a small condo in Forest Hills, not far from where Victor Gambello, the Shy Don, had an impressive house with a large, well-manicured yard. (I had seen it a couple of times on TV, in the background behind journalists reporting on Gambello indictments or deaths.)
    I had gone to the local deli to pick up some hot soup and sandwiches while Max showered and changed, and then he joined me in the bookstore for this quiet, companionable meal. The night was bitterly cold, but we were cozy and