At the Behest of the Dead (12 page)

But before any of that could take place I needed answers.

I touched the man again and dove deep.

His soul was a mess, shredded and hurt. Like an abused child
, it shrunk from me. But souls didn’t feel pain. This one was trying to depart, to escape from me or run from whatever had caused it so much anguish. I held on, delving, feeling around the confines of its prison. There was something there, in his chest. I could feel it like an anchor that wouldn’t let him go.

Then an angry force ripped through the body. It felt like a red hot blazing hand raked my innards from chest to groin. I reared back in shock then howled as pain flooded my body. I th
ought to say a word, just one. Something powerful, but then it was gone and I was flying backwards. I was thrown onto my back, the air exploding from my body. But that wasn’t the worst of my problems, as I felt like my entire form was suddenly on fire. I howled again, but it was a wordless cry. For a few seconds I swam in a haze and stared at a mural on the ceiling. Angels and demons made up animated figures that fought. They struggled against each other, ripping and tearing. Demons with feet and talons. Angels with swords and shields. The ground was covered in blood that made it slick, but they continued to dance across the sea of crimson. No, that wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. I was in a coffee house on good old earth. Not some plane of existence where the forces of good and evil constantly faced off.

The hand had been red hot, glowing, evil with intent. If it was real, and not some malevolent apparition, I had no doubt it would have killed me. It would have reached into my chest and torn my heart from it like a man tearing the wings off a fly.

A demon spirit had somehow possessed the changer.

I tried to take a breath but it was so hard. Then Andrews was there and leaning over me. She put her hand over my chest and recoiled when she felt the metal pentagram affixed there.

“I’m okay,” I croaked between dry lips.

“You don’t look
okay, partner. You look like you just got dropped from about twenty feet. What the hell was that? I mean I thought I saw a giant red hand going at you.”

“I don’t know. Something reached in and …” I heard a whoosh. I thrashed to the side because my body was in
flames. A conflagration that coated my body from head to foot. I rolled, desperate to smother the blaze.

Andrews moved fast. She tore her jacket off and jumped on me, smothering the
fire. I thrashed beneath her but she held me down. To be honest, I had about as much energy left as a tired puppy.

The barista, Ashley, came to the rescue with a pitcher of water, most of which ended up on my face. I beat at any spots that still seemed warm and looked down. Smoke rose from Andrews’s jacket but at least the flames were out.

The same could not be said for the man I had killed.

I rolled out of the way again as I got a glimpse of the changer. He was on fire as well but the flames were white hot. His body crackled and the smell of burning hair made me want to gag.

“Ah Christ!” Andrews yelled and grabbed anything that looked wet and poured it on the body.

I rolled over and patted at the flames as well
, but I didn’t have a potion ready that could possibly help. Where was all that water from my trip in the river the night before?

“Does this kind of stuff happen to you all the time?”

“Not until you showed up.”

“How was I to know Lon Chaney Junior was hiding underground waiting to wreck havoc on half the city?”

“I distinctly remember asking you to stay out. Remember? I clearly said ‘This is very dangerous.’ But you followed anyway.”

“And it got your ass saved.” She finished the argument succinctly.

I lay on my back for a few moments, reveling in the aftermath of the battle and the fact that I was still alive. Then the shakes set in and I had to roll on my side and pull my legs up to stop from throwing up. I must have been a sight. It was a wonder the detective didn’t laugh at my bravery.

“Is he okay? I have more water.” A familiar voice chimed
through my thoughts, which were going in at least fifteen different directions.

“I think I’m good,
” I muttered and wished for a pair of Percocets. I supposed I could have gotten snarky and asked the detective for some.

Andrews didn’t stick around for our conversation.
She rushed to the man that had been injured and leaned over to talk with him. The detective crouched by his side and looked the guy over. I had a tincture in my kit. Something I could use to help him stay lucid until the ambulance arrived. I should’ve probably been using the stuff on me as well.

I sat up and attempted to stand, and then I landed on my butt again. Ashley patted my shoulder like I was a kid
, but she stared at the body on the floor. Her hand slipped and she almost fell down. She landed next to me, putting on a show as if she meant to do that.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She turned her eyes on me but didn’t smile. Her face was a mess, covered in soot, with a piece of wood stuck in her hair. She looked shell shocked, almost in a daze. I didn’t feel much better, but I still reached out and plucked the chunk from her curls.

“What. Was. That.” She stared into space.

“Changer. A very very angry changer.”

“He looked like a … a dog.”

“Werewolf,” Detective Andrews said. She was back at our side, looking me over this time.

“I don’t believe it,” s
he said.

“I wish it hadn’t been real too.” I said matter of
factly.

“Me too. H
e was dangerous. Made a real mess in here,” Andrews said.

“That’s not it.”

“What?” Andrews asked.

“Second one
in two days,” I muttered.

“Second what?”

Andrews found a pile of napkins that had been scattered across the floor and picked up a handful. He shook them out then handed them to me. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to cry into them or wipe the water off my face.

“Second time someone’s tried to kill.”

“Now why would someone want to kill you? You’re so charming.” The detective scoffed.

“I wish I knew,” I said,
then leaned against Ashley. If she was going to sit next to me, I was going to take advantage of the situation. Detective Andrew eyed us but I couldn’t read her look. For some reason, I got the feeling that she didn’t like seeing me with the other girl.

Chapter Six

M
y kit was still in one piece but the leather was singed. Shame. I loved that bag. Salazar had given it to me when I was just a kid.

I applied a salve to a small cut on Ashley’s chin. It wasn’t deep but there was a small trail of blood
. I dabbed at it with a fresh piece of cotton that was miraculously dry. She kept her chin tilted upwards. Her teeth bit and pulled her lower lip up so her skin pulled taut. Ashley’s complexion was unblemished, skin smooth and so soft I wanted to do a little more touching than with just the cotton. Her eyes stared down at me as I worked at the wound. It was a job that only took a few seconds but I managed to stretch it out.

She even
wore a hint of some flowery substance that was able to mingle and even overpower the stench of smoke. A few strands of her hair had been touched by a flame. I ran my hands over the area and thought of a spell that might restore it in a matter of days instead of weeks, but I had nothing left. If another werewolf walked in the door and demanded my heart, I wouldn’t have had enough energy to beg for him to come back tomorrow.

“So.”

“So,” I said, but avoided her eyes.

“I thought you repaired chairs.”

“Sofas.”

“Right.” S
he let the word hang in the air.

“And I sometimes help track down rogue changers.”

“The robes, the vials, the Latin ... tell me more about your profession.”

“Latin?”

“I heard you muttering just before … just before crazy stuff happened.”

“That wasn’t Latin.”

“Whatever. Just tell me what you do.”

This gave me pause. If I flat out told her the truth this might be a very short conversation. Sure, I would just tell he
r that I was a practicing warlock living in Seattle. That would go over well. I was never into impressing people, preferring to let my actions speak for themselves. But this was a girl. A very attractive girl.

I really had one option. I would lie.

“Magician. I work at the circus.”

“I never asked your name.”

“Phineas.”

“That's it. N
o middle or last name?”

My lips split in a smile. I instantly regretted it because they were cracked from the flames. They weren’t burned too deeply
, but I should’ve been applying the salve to them.

“Cavanaugh. No middle name.”

“Okay then. Phineas No-Name Cavanaugh.” She used the kind of tone a mother takes with a child. “You destroyed my shop, my livelihood. I was almost eaten and you were almost burned to a crisp. The least I deserve is an answer to a relatively simple question.”

I gulped.
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You could have warned me before you turned this place into a disaster area,” she said as she looked around the remains of the shop.

Detective Andrews coughed and went to check on her patient.

“I’m a
warlock.” I waited for her to recoil, to move away from me.

She didn’t respond, opting to take the salve from my hand, dab some on her finger
, and then start to work it into my lips before I could protest.

“I don’t know what that means. All I know is that you saved my life.”

“Mpph.”

“
Shh. You saved my life, so I’m obligated to you in some way.”

My eyes arched up.

“Not that way!”

My eyes arched down.

“But in some way.”

She leaned over, one finger still on my
mouth, and pressed lips to my cheek.

“Are we even now?”

I did the smart thing and didn’t nod.

She put the cap back on the salve.

“You two are real cute together. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get a few things on report. Let’s go Phineas.” Andrews had amazing timing.

“I don't do reports. Just write whatever you need to and I’ll sign it later.”

“Not gonna happen, tough guy. First we stop by the hospital and get you checked out. Then it’s my office for a few hours. How do you like your coffee?” She looked around the Starbucks and her smirk fell.

“From a functional machine if
poffible.” I quipped through numb lips.

Ashley hid her smile behind a hand.

She got up and poked around the wreckage until she found a scrap of paper. She went behind what was left of the counter and rooted around until she found a pen. Then she wrote something and brought it to me.

“Call me here when you feel better. We can talk about my debt then. Do
warlocks have yards? Maybe I can come over and mow it.” Then she went back to start sorting out the wreckage. As she walked away, she kept her eyes up and off the body on the floor. I couldn’t say that I blamed her.

“Thanks, ma’am.
I would like to take your statement later,” Andrews said as she walked away.

“Can’t you take my statement later too?” I asked, head tilting in her direction.

“Sorry, Phin. She was a bystander. Right now, I’m not sure you aren’t an instigator.”

“Hey, this was your idea.”

“Yeah. And lucky for you I was along for the ride so I can back up your story. I thought you guys were supposed to be smarter than this.”

“So did I,
” I lamented.

**

A pair of policemen in blue came in the door and looked at the mess. One was short and overweight by about a hundred pounds. He had a receding hairline and sort of reminded me of a young Danny DeVito.

His partner was Asian and tall. He looked the scene over and his mouth dropped open. The shorter one reached for his side arm but left his hand there as he surveyed the scene. Andrews opened her badge and held it high and the two relaxed.

“Hell of a mess!” the shorter one said in a jovial voice, like he enjoyed this stuff.

“Whole night was a mess,” Andrews replied.

The three conferred while I concentrated on getting my feet under me. Debris lay everywhere from shattered windows, broken tables, and destroyed countertops. The coffee machine was mostly intact, but a steady jet of water shot upward.

Ashley and Mr. Scruffy-beard worked at something under the counter until the water shut off. Where in the hells had he been hiding during the entire attack?

I felt useless, so I took a seat on what remained of one of the benches. It was close to the window and as soon as I sat down it started to rain. With the window gone that meant that I got an early shower. Still, I was grateful to be alive and let the water wash over my head and run down my hair. When it started to trickle down my back, I decided it was enough and sat up.

I caught a glimpse of a small arm under the only remaining table in the store. It was in the corner, near the entrance. There was a small L shaped cubbyhole of a space with just two seats facing each other.

I dragged myself to my feet.

A kid was backed into a corner, under a booth. He was holding his arm. I dropped down and looked into the dark. He was scared
, and the black robe covered in burn marks that I wore probably didn’t help matters.

“Come on out and I’ll look at that arm,” I offered.

He shook his head and stuck his lip out. It trembled and he looked like he was about to break into tears. Where was his mother or father? They had to be in here somewhere.

No doubt he was scared.
I would be terrified of me too. Dressed in black, covered in dust, dirt, and probably countless spider webs from the half hour we had spent underground. Came running in here hurling a spell, and then all hell broke loose.

“Come on, bud.
” I motioned with one hand.

Maybe he’d had enough of hiding and decided the coast was clear.
He crawled out and took a seat on what was more or less a clean spot on the floor. He studied me from beneath long hair that was swept all in one direction, like he’s gotten a spiral haircut during a hurricane.

I popped the top on the salve and studied what remained. I made a mental note to bill the police for that as well.

“Let me see the cut.”

The kid stared at me like I had fangs.

“That dog isn’t coming back, okay? He’s sleeping over there.” I pointed at the shape under Detective Andrew’s ruined jacket.

“I like dogs.
Is he really asleep?” The boy was blond to his roots and even had light eyebrows.

“Yep.”

I found a gash on the kid’s arm and applied the salve. Within seconds, he grinned as the pain faded.

“Feels better,” t
he kid said but didn’t even break into a smile.

“Charles!” A sharp female voice broke in.

He jumped up and ran to a woman that had to be his mother. She looked at the mess, her eyes wide, and then she looked at me in my robe with the tools of my trade hanging from belts and hooks. She gasped again, but at what particular part of me I had no idea. Maybe it was the soot covered skin. Maybe it was the robe. Maybe it was the fact that I was bleeding through my beat up t-shirt in the shape of a pentagram from my chest.

“He’s fine
, ma’am,” I started to say but she grabbed him up, pressed his head into her shoulder, and marched out of the Starbucks.

I sat in misery and waited for a chance to make a break for it. But luck was not on my side because a few minutes later Detective Andrews came for me. The next stop would have been the
hospital . However I talked her out of that with a fanciful tale of attending a medical center for my kind. I didn’t have insurance and didn’t want to be stuck in a machine that would scan me. We liked to keep out of such places if at all possible. Too many questions that needed answers that normal people were not ready to hear.

**

Hours later, hand aching from signing what felt like a hundred pieces of paper, we left the police station. Most of the reports were done on the computer, but each was printed and handed to me to look over. I signed for my fee, made up a bunch of crap that sounded good for my expenses, and was informed that a check would be mailed within six weeks. Two jobs in a row without immediate payout meant ramen dinners for the foreseeable future.

The police station was about as generic as any I’d seen on a procedural drama. The big difference was that there weren’t a bunch of yelling
perps waiting to be booked. There was no screaming lieutenant, and a distinct lack of ladies of the evening sitting in line, waiting to be booked. Police stations on television were so much more interesting.

Cops walked by Andrew’s desk, looking me over
. I got everything in the book--derision, scoffing, and in one case a genuine “pfft.”

“Can’t you hurry up the chec
k? This looks like a big place. Maybe you can get someone to sign for it. I’ve already signed enough papers to join the military. What’s one more?”

After getting my ass kicked by a pissed off changer
, six hundred and eighty bucks would go a long way towards making me feel better. They probably owed me more for all the ingredients, but honestly I got tired of detailing every little item on the expense report Andrews handed me.

Andrews got up
several times to hand in paperwork or bring something back from a special hell where they kept reams of documentation. The north face of the building was filled with expansive windows. I watched rain roll in, stop, and then come in again. It seemed like every time I looked up it was one or the other. Maybe I should’ve forgotten my fork and hit up the detective for a ride home. The only thing more miserable than flying in the rain was flying in Chicago in the winter, particularly in the Great Lakes region. It’s so cold there it feels like you are living in an icebox.