The Demons of the Square Mile

By Laurence Raphael Brothers

The real story behind Brexit.

Occult Private Investigator, Nora Simeon, and her uncannily handsome partner Eyre - an elemental given human form - follow a trail of magic, murder, and conspiracy from the luxurious apartment towers of Manhattan's upper east side to the ancient depths of London's Inner Temple. Along the w

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mirror World Publishing
• Release date: Mar 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781987976762

Laurence Raphael Brothers

Laurence Raphael Brothers is a writer and a technologist with five patents and a background in AI and Internet R&D. He has published over 40 short stories in such magazines as Nature, PodCastle, and Galaxy's Edge. His noir urban fantasy novellas The Demons of Wall Street, The Demons of the Square Mile, and The Demons of Chiyoda are available from Mirror World Publishing.To learn more about the works and world of Laurence Raphael Brothers, you can follow him on Twitter at @lbrothers or visit his website, laurencebrothers.com.

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The Demons of the Square Mile

Nora Simeon Investigations #2

Laurence Raphael Brothers

E-BOOK EDITION

The Demons of the Square Mile (Nora Simeon Investigations #2) © 2021 by Mirror World Publishing and Laurence Raphael Brothers

Edited by: Robert Dowsett

Cover Design by: Justine Dowsett

Published by Mirror World Publishing in March 2021

All Rights Reserved.

*This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locales, events or persons is entirely coincidental.

Mirror World Publishing

Windsor, Ontario

www.mirrorworldpublishing.com

[e-mail]

ISBN: 978-1-987976-76-2

This book is for my friends Ben, Steve, and Gary, who have borne with my writing long enough to require apologies.

CHAPTER 1

The elevator let me out on the 60th floor, and I hesitated for a moment at the frosted-glass door before opening it, but it was too late to back out now. One of the most powerful people in the western hemisphere was waiting for me.

When I opened the door, though, I was confronted by someone I didn’t expect to see at all. The Commission operative Savarin, a bald man with harsh anger lines grooved in his face, sat at the reception desk in the foyer. I was a little surprised to see him still employed, but on mature reflection I supposed it made sense. He’d turned coat at just the right moment six months ago to join the winning side, and the Commission has never been big on sentiment.

Savarin looked me over carefully for a moment, as if he’d never seen me before, though at one time I’d reported all my case results to him. Maybe he was waiting for a hidden millimeter-wave weapon scan to complete. I wasn’t carrying; it didn’t seem like it would result in a positive outcome.

After that brief pause, he pointed down a carpeted corridor extending away from the entry foyer, which was decorated in a neutral style, tasteful but bland. The director is ready for you. End of the hall.

End of the hall wasn’t the sumptuous private office I was expecting, but a standard corporate conference room. Quality furnishings, but not ostentatious. Rosewood table, comfortable padded leather seating for eight, and an enormous video screen for teleconferences. The room was dim, lit only by the mid-morning daylight filtering through translucent beige curtains over picture windows that presented a ghostly view of Central Park stretching off to the north. The elegantly dressed man waiting on the far side of the conference table rose as I entered, waited for me to approach, and extended his hand.

Mx. Nora Simeon? A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Nguyen.

I muttered something polite and took his hand, cold and dry as a vampire’s, if there were such things. He looked like the model of an ultra-wealthy executive– but no, that wasn’t quite right. Nguyen had the demeanor and presence of someone who had so much money they didn’t need to take a salary at the pleasure of a corporate board. An owner, that’s what he was. He might have been thirty-five or forty years old. There was something about him that creeped me out, and I felt a surge of irrational fear at the touch of his hand. It was a relief when he let go a moment later and gestured for me to sit down.

Now then, Mx. Simeon, I’m at your service. I must confess to some curiosity regarding the purpose of this meeting.

Nguyen didn’t tell me his time was valuable; he didn’t have to. Maybe this half-hour he’d given me was worth more than my annual contract. His outfit might well have been. The senior Commission auditing director was dressed in a bespoke Brioni charcoal-black suit, with an exquisite gray silk tie over a white shirt and jade cufflinks on the sleeves. Mirror shades shielded his eyes even in the dimness of the conference room, a bit of a gauche touch, but still very effective. His jet-black hair and sparkling white teeth were as perfect as I’d ever seen in a human. I would have found his slight French accent charming if he wasn’t so creepy.

After a moment recovering my poise, I brought out my prepared spiel.

The Commission keeps me on permanent retainer for a hundred grand a year.

So I understand, he said.

I realize it’s not a lot of money to you, I said. But it is to me, and I want to feel like I’m returning some kind of value for pay.

Laudable.

I swallowed. I didn’t want to do myself out of my main source of income. But–

It’s been six months. Six months since you replaced Oriens on the board, and six months since my last assignment.

I was going to say something more, but he interrupted, with the smooth manner of someone so used to power that his interruption didn’t even seem rude.

I read your report on the incident at M-42. Most satisfactory work, even considering the influence my colleague Madame Villiers applied to manipulate the outcome. I would have been prepared to pay a substantial bonus, but her argument against the appearance of nepotism convinced me to the contrary.

My mother, I thought. The bitch. I might have been set for life if she hadn’t intervened.

I didn’t mean to imply I wanted more money, I said, trying to control my voice, because until he told me that, I really hadn’t. It’s just that...well, six months is a long time for me to go without a Commission assignment, and I, uh, I wanted to find out if my services are still required. Because I don’t like the idea of my job being a sinecure.

Nguyen gave me a thin smile. I see. Mx. Simeon, please rest assured, there is no question of the value you represent to this office. There aren’t many private investigators authorized to know of the Commission’s existence, much less the true nature of the business of our member firms. In fact, I rather imagine you are the only one. So I will just say that during this last half year there have been no rogue demons endangering the public’s blissful ignorance, no wild talents discovering their powers, and no restive sorcerers in any of our firms blatantly violating the rules we impose on them. In fact, the only matter of significance that arose to trouble the Commission was the Chinese virus scare, something not exactly within your purview.

Wait. The Chinese virus scare? That thing in Wuhan a while back? Wasn’t it a dud? Like swine flu or whatever?

It would have caused untold harm worldwide, Nguyen said. Fortunately, between our specialists and the Tè Yùcè Chù, we managed to come up with a curse to reduce it to the level of the common cold. You probably caught it over the winter without even knowing.

Oh. I was a little taken aback. I wasn’t used to sorcery being used for anything good.

Of course we wouldn’t have intervened, Nguyen said, except a pandemic would have upset market stability worldwide. Global warming and the current state of international politics are bad enough influences as it is.

Much better. My faith in humanity was restored. As it were.

In any event,there simply has been no work for you to do. No doubt some of this peacefulness is a consequence of the impressive results of your last assignment. The Commission board is pleased with your work, or at least its auditors are, and the Council is pleased with the prevailing calm as well.

The man had a courtroom lawyer’s glibness, able to reel off a long speech like that as smoothly as if he had it memorized. But his mention of the Council brought me up short. I hardly knew anything about the Commission’s European counterpart, except they’d somehow forced the Commission board to accept Nguyen in the powerful role of auditing director in the wake of last year’s chaos at the top of the organization.

Happy to hear it, I said. But sorry to have wasted your time.

Not at all. I should have requested a meeting with you myself soon after my appointment to this position. But the fact is I’ve been rather busy with managing the consequences of my predecessor’s misdeeds, and because you’re a contractor I’m afraid I put you out of mind. My mistake, which I’m pleased you’ve remedied.

Thanks. Shouldn’t keep you from your work.

No, he said, I suppose not, as if he honestly regretted the press of business.

Nguyen rose to his feet at the same time as I did and offered me his hand again across the conference room table. I almost recoiled from the gesture, but I managed to reach out and allow my hand to be held for a moment, once more feeling the curious coldness and that surge of irrational fear, hoping the revulsion wasn’t obvious on my face.

My apologies, he said. It’s not a deliberate effect, and you can imagine it’s rather a burden most of the time, but I do find it useful on occasion to test a person’s mettle.

What?

You know full well what I mean. Nguyen smiled, showing his perfect teeth. A pleasure not just to meet you, but to see such self-control. Good day, Mx. Simeon. Good day!

When I got back to my shabby little 9th Avenue office, no one was there. My partner, Eyre, was gone from his desk. It was just ten in the morning, but we were supposed to go out to dinner tonight, and then afterwards he’d be sleeping over at my place. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, hoping he’d somehow be there when I opened them. But no. Ever since I’d met him, I’d worried he might just disappear when he’d had enough of me. Maybe today was the day.

His desk looked normal enough. Laptop, closed. A half-empty can of Diet Pepsi. An orchid spray in a vase because after six months working with me he was still charmed at the idea of being like Nero Wolfe and having an office on 35th Street. An upturned paperback: Max Gladstone’s Full Fathom Five. I’d bought it for Eyre as a joke because of the title – he used to go by Ariel, long ago and the title was out of The Tempest – but I guess he must have liked it because he was almost done with the book. It looked like he’d stepped out, except Eyre’s pistol was still clamped under the desk, and his phone was charging. He hated carrying the gun, and I often had to bully him into it, but he wouldn’t have left without his phone, not even to go to the bathroom. Something was seriously wrong.

Just then, my own phone rang, playing the Peter Gunn theme ringtone that meant someone was calling my office number instead of my personal one.

Simeon Investigations.

We have your minion, said an inhuman voice. A demon’s for sure, unless it had been synthesized. It sounded like shards of broken glass jangling in a paper bag, but I could understand it. What I couldn’t understand was how anyone could kidnap Eyre without getting their asses handed to them. Gun or no gun.

Who are you?

More broken glass sounds, but no words. After a few seconds I realized it was laughter. At last the voice