Ian and I went inside and he gave our names, and who we were there to see, at the front desk.
Without a word, the receptionist keyed in a code on his computer’s keyboard, and a door clicked open that, until that moment, had looked like part of the wall.
Nifty. And more than a little concerning.
“Wait inside, please. Mr. Malvolia’s assistant will be right with you.”
Ian nodded. “Thank you.”
My partner went through the door and I followed. The door/wall clicked shut behind us.
I’ll admit it, I jumped a little. Ian glanced around, but otherwise didn’t move. There was nothing to see.
That was my problem.
The room was no larger than ten by ten. No windows, no doors, all walls—and not a portal to be seen or sensed.
I casually went back to back with Ian. “I don’t like this,” I said, trying not to move my lips. I had an entirely unwanted image of the Star Wars trash compactor scene. Minus the trash and stink, that is. For a potential trap, it was actually a very nice room. Death by polished wood paneling.
“Easy, partner,” Ian murmured. “It’s a pocket dimension. They don’t need doors.”
Dimensions didn’t need doors, but if an exit didn’t show itself soon, I was going to either hyperventilate and pass out, or make my own door.
I continued with the whispering and not-moving-my-lips thing. “If I can see portals, why can’t I see this one?”
“Because they haven’t activated it yet.”
Oh.
Before I had time to feel too embarrassed, a pale green glow appeared in a smooth seam down the same wall we’d come in through, though not in exactly the same place. It wasn’t a friendly, springtime leaf green; this was a noxious acid green glow. Somehow it suited a guy who by all accounts could have single-handedly given lawyers of every species a bad name.
I’d never thought of myself as much of an actress, but I did my best to look past the portal as if I hadn’t seen it, and moved to where Ian could see me checking my watch.
That was our pre-arranged I’ve-seen-a-portal signal.
Ian casually and quietly cleared his throat.
Message received.
I received a little message of my own. More like a confirmation. I could see portals, probably any and all of them.
I sighed. Oh goody.
* * *
The goblin lawyer took my partner’s hand in an enthusiastic two-handed shake.
“Ian, my boy, how are you?”
With a name like Alastor Malvolia, I expected the goblin version of Mr. Burns on The Simpsons, not the bright-eyed, cheerful man who greeted us just inside the door to his office. Of course, someone would be less likely to expect a knife in the back from a happy guy.
Malvolia’s assistant had walked us through an office that looked disturbingly similar to the human lawyer’s office in our dimension—and that occupied almost the exact same space. That felt cosmically wrong on every level.
Goblins were known for being tall, but Alastor Malvolia was maybe an inch taller than me, if that. Goblins were also known for being sexy. I felt confident in saying that no creature—in our dimension or any other—would think Al Malvolia was hot.
“Mr. Malvolia, I’d—”
“Al. After all this time, please call me Al.”
Ian smiled what I’d come to know as his fake work smile. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
“Al, this is my partner Agent Makenna Fraser.”
Then I was on the receiving end of the two-handed shake as my hand completely vanished in both of his.
“A pleasure, Agent Fraser. Though I wish our meeting was under different circumstances. Mr. Gedeon was a longtime client of mine. The nature of his death has been a shock to all of us who knew him. Please, both of you, have a seat. May I offer you something to drink?”
Ian held up a hand.
I said, “No, thank you.”
The goblin sat behind his surprisingly non-imposing desk. “Then we’ll go directly to what brings you here. The killer who is preying on the citizens of our city.”
At least he didn’t say “innocent citizens.” That would have been pushing it. How he described them was perfectly accurate. Drug lords and their underlings may be directly or indirectly responsible for hundreds—maybe thousands—of deaths, but they were citizens of New York.
“We believe Sar Gedeon’s murder, as well as those of several of your other clients’ employees, are linked to the arrival of the drug Brimstone and the individuals behind its manufacture and sale. We have reason to believe the source of the drug is extra-dimensional. However, we can’t confirm this without access to the drug.”
Malvolia laughed. “And you think that I would happen to have a sample lying around the office.”
Again with the smile. “Of course I don’t. Though it would make our job much easier if you did. If we can analyze the drug, we can determine its origin—and track down those who brought it here. We have reason to believe Mr. Gedeon was killed because of his desire to negotiate a business arrangement with Brimstone’s manufacturers. His request was rebuffed with some finality in an incident involving one of his employees three days ago.”
Malvolia laughed, a half-hiss, half-wheeze that didn’t do a thing to make me feel more comfortable.
“Ian, you missed your calling,” the goblin said. “You would have made a fine attorney.”
My partner inclined his head in acknowledgment, though he’d been a cop long enough to take anything coming from a creature like Alastor Malvolia as a compliment.