Chicagoland by Gail Martin (important books to read TXT) 📕

“Go shower,” Sarah told me. “I’ll bring him some hot tea and cookies.”

She didn’t need to ask again. I scrubbed with soap until my skin turned pink, under the hottest water I could get, and washed my hair twice. Do they make special soap for people who work in slaughterhouses? How about soap to remove the stench of Hell?

When I’d gotten as clean as I could manage, I changed into fresh clothing, thinking how this trip had gone hard on my limited wardrobe. I should have known better than to worry since I found two stacks of fresh shirts and pants neatly folded on my dresser, courtesy of Sarah and her helpful concierge.

Father Kinsella wasn’t on the bed anymore, and it looked like he had taken his teacup and plate of cookies with him. I found him perched in the wing chair, chatting with Sarah, who really could strike up a conversation with absolutely anyone.

“Joe, thank you for your help back there,” Kinsella said. “I have to admit—it was one thing to have you tell me about your abilities, and another to see them in action.”

I shrugged. “Yeah. I hear that a lot. I’m just happy we all lived through it.”

Sarah looked up at me from her place on the couch. “Is it really over?”

I thought for a moment and then nodded. “We did what we came to Chicago to do, and then some. Freed the tormented ghosts in Death Alley, handled a wendigo, a rougarou, and rogue vamp, and dispelled the bound demon—with your help,” I said, nodding at the priest. “Bonus points for the imp at the murder house.”

“You’ve gone above and beyond,” Ness said as he and West came into the parlor, setting down their bags of gear and weapons. “You all have my gratitude and the unofficial thanks of the city of Chicago.”

I figured Ness would have to adjust what he wrote in his report, as would West. Sarah and I were independent, and the Vatican wouldn’t bat an eye if Kinsella recounted the whole truth, although I doubted he needed to do so.

“Then I think this calls for a celebration,” Sarah declared. “The concierge gave me the name of another steakhouse and said we absolutely must try it. Shall I make reservations for five?”

Father Kinsella smiled indulgently. “Thank you, but I have left some things unfinished back at my church, which I should take care of.” He glanced to me. “May I have a word, Joe?”

“Sure,” I replied as the others gave a questioning look. I walked the priest to the door. “What’s on your mind?”

“You’re aware that there are several different groups operating with the backing of factions at the Vatican to handle the occult?”

“Uh-huh,” I replied. “Not really my business.”

“It may become your concern. My group, the Occulatum, is pretty moderate, all things considered. The Sinistram, a group that lives up to its name by being the secret ‘left hand’ of the Holy Father, takes a harder line with perceived supernatural threats.” He met my gaze. “Be careful, Joe. So far, the Occulatum has tried very hard to stay out of the Mob’s affairs. But we think the Sinistram may see an affiliation with whoever emerges as the strongest Family to be advantageous to their purposes. Which will pull us in as a counterbalance.”

“Sorry to hear that, but it’s still not my business.”

“The Sinistram judges everything supernatural not in its employ to be a monster and gives no quarter,” Kinsella warned. “That would include creatures like you and Sorren, your witch friends, even helpful ghosts. Cross Cotton Mather with Torquemada, and you’ll get the idea.”

Shit. “How do we stop them?”

Kinsella shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but watch your back. If we don’t find a way, we’ll have gang wars that become a new Inquisition, and it won’t be good…that’s for sure.”

“Thanks,” I said, as worry roiled in my gut. “I’ll keep my ears open. Let me know if you hear anything.” He nodded and slipped into the hallway.

“Something wrong?” Sarah asked when I came back to the parlor. Ness and West had washed up, and everyone was getting their coats on for dinner.

“No,” I fibbed, not really a lie. “He just wanted to make sure you sent the relics back to the museum.” The dire future Kinsella warned about hadn’t happened yet, and there was nothing I could do right now. If and when things changed, I’d lay all the cards on the table.

West, Sarah, and Ness had risked their lives to tie up this case. They deserved an evening to celebrate.

Hell, so did I.

I grinned. “Let’s go eat some steak.”

THE END

Afterword

We love to draw story elements from real history, even if that requires tweaking a few details. Capone did have mobster equivalents in Canada, with whom he did a lot of bootlegging. The H. H. Holmes boarding house often referred to in the press as the “murder castle” was real, as were the fires that destroyed the upper floors while the ground floor remained in use until its destruction in the 1930s. Pat Quinlan was Holmes’s hotel manager, whose life was tragic even though he avoided prosecution. Capone really did have a rival mobster shot down in front of Holy Name Cathedral, leaving bullet holes in the stone. The secret tunnels and rooms in the Lexington Hotel were real and so are the “coal and ash” tunnels, which still exist but have been blocked off due to flooding.

The Iroquois Theater fire was also real, and legends about the street behind its location did earn the name Death Alley. The occult bookstore exists to this day, and the two Chicago authors who remain obscure are also real. The Standard Club, long a posh club for Chicago’s elite, just closed permanently in 2020. Eliot Ness had his office in the Transportation Building, and he really was twenty-seven at the time he headed up the Untouchables. Of course, Capone was eventually convicted on tax evasion, and