God Hammer: A novel of the Demon Accords (19 page)

Caeco crossed the room in a blur, grabbing the door and whipping it open.  No one was there, but down low, where the floor met the hall wall, a shadow slipped away.

I moved up next to her, brushing past to look out the doorway and down the hall.  Even as I studied the flickering light and the doors at the far end, I was almost painfully aware of her body brushing against mine.  I moved into the hall, immediately missing the brief contact, but then my Sight caught another shadow slipping under one of the far doors.

“What’s this one?” I asked as I walked down and tried the door, finding it locked.

Mazar looked at a tablet.  “Building plans says it’s the utility room.  Furnace and stuff,” she said.

Caeco reached past me and tried the doorknob herself.  I saw her fingers tighten, heard a tiny, tinny snap, and the door swung open.  “You must have loosened it for me,” she said with a smirk.

“Humpf,” Krupp muttered, eyeing Caeco with a mildly stern expression.  Mazar just brushed by both of us, pulling out one of those small, powerful flashlights that all television and movie cops seem to be religiously equipped with.

Krupp went past us and Caeco gave me a quick grin before following her boss.  That left me last, but I didn’t mind as it gave me a chance to admire the nice fit of her suit.

Inside, the room was dark and dusty, just a bare concrete floor with a furnace and water heater taking up a good portion of it.  The circuit breaker box was on one wall, illuminated by a single incandescent bulb that flickered to life when Mazar found the light switch.

We looked around, but there seemed to be very little to see.  The outer wall was the bare concrete of the original poured foundation; two other walls were sheetrock on the far side and open framing on this side.  The last wall was brick, which struck me as odd.  A push broom, tucked into the sheetrock and two-by-four framing space that was the hall wall, suddenly tilted over and smacked into the brick wall, clattering down to the floor.

“I’m no paranormal expert,” Krupp said, which was ironic, as she headed a paranormal team, “but that seems like a hint?”

I moved over and spread my hands against the wall, while Caeco simultaneously rapped the brick with one hand and listened with a tilted head.

“Hollow space behind it,” she said, giving me a challenging look.

“Open cavity approximately three feet high, by seven… no eight feet deep and four-and-a-half feet wide.  Disturbed dirt floor,” I said, listening to what Earth had to tell me.

“Show off,” Caeco said, stepping back and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Now, kids,” Krupp admonished, moving over to study the brick.  “This is much newer construction than the rest of the room.”

“We need to expand the warrant,” Mazar said.

The anger was back, five fold, and a loud thump sounded on the other side of the brick.  Against the brick. Hard. And then again, harder.

Mazar leaned down to put her ear to the wall but I pulled her away just before the portion of bricks nearest her head bulged outward at a third, much more forceful hit.

Mortar pattered down to the floor and visible cracks between the now-bowed-out wall appeared at its center.  The entity seemed drained but I could literally feel its frustration.  So I lent it some power.  Just fed it to it like I might lend power to another witch.

I had only just pushed the others back a step before the last and most powerful hit knocked three bricks loose from the middle of the wall.  A black opening gapped in the center and when none of the other three moved, I stepped forward, pulling my phone and turning on the flashlight app.

“Can’t see much with this light, but there’s something in there, and by the smell of it, it’s dead,” I said.

Mazar and Krupp shouldered me aside, not roughly but with authority.  Both produced flashlights, which they pointed into the opening.  They looked inside, head to head, then pulled back and glanced at each other.  They must have come to some common agreement, as Mazar stepped back and pulled out her phone while Krupp turned to Caeco.  “Help me open this wall a bit, Caeco,” she ordered.

The wall was bowed and partially opened, but the mortar was far from weak.  Krupp managed to pull a single brick loose but struggled with the others.  It was Caeco’s turn to move the senior agent aside and then proceed to yank the wall apart with a casual strength that made Krupp step back and distracted Mazar from her phone conversation with whatever FBI resource she was talking to. The two senior agents exchanged a quick look as their protégé dismantled the barrier.

Krupp glanced at me, a slight look of disbelief on her face.  I shrugged and grinned.  “Her mother does good work,” I said, earning myself a glance from Caeco, which I grinned back at.

“That college of yours is a real piece of work, isn’t it?” Krupp asked.

“You should see it during finals week,” I said.  Caeco just nodded in agreement while ripping a few final bricks free from the wall.

“Do ghosts usually have that much power?” Krupp asked me, getting Mazar’s complete attention as she shut off her phone.

“No.  Only the really, really angry ones.  Sometimes they grow with power over the years; other times, they fade.  This one isn’t the fading type and I think he’s been dead a few years at least.  I suspect his remains are in that hole,” I answered. “I lent him a bit of power to get that last strike in, though.”

“That a good idea?  Handing out power to hostile entities?” Krupp asked me.

“Hostile?  He’s pissed at his death and I think he grew pissed that he couldn’t get anyone to pay attention to him.  If the people in the clinic killed him, then he was likely directing his anger and attacks on them.  He didn’t know we were different until we talked to him.  Now he knows.  And he needed that last hit to give you probable cause, right?” I asked.

“It certainly sped things up,” Krupp said, stepping carefully into the dark hole.

The black form was back, in the corner of the basement nearest the electrical box.  This time, features started to form.

“I found a body,” Krupp said suddenly.  “Decayed and mummified, but I think it could be male.”

“Let me guess.  Five-nine, thin, brown hair, blue eyes, long, angular face?” I suggested.

Mazar and Caeco turned to me, but I kept my eyes on the filled-out figure in the corner, the one that watched me with something that might have been hope.

“How the hell did you get that?  Although the eyes are closed,” Krupp said, backing out and turning to look my way.

“He’s standing in the corner,” I said.

“Oh,” she said, flicking a quick look into the corner but apparently not seeing what I was seeing.  “Does he have any ID on him?  Because the body is stripped naked.”

The young man disappeared in a blur, a cold, icy wind breezing past all of us and entering the hole.   Krupp reacted instantly, flashing her light into the dark space.  I could now see the desiccated lower legs of a body, feet closest to the hole in the brick.  Deeper inside, almost as far back as the hole went, a sudden cloud of soil and dust puffed upward from the dirt floor.  Krupp glanced back at me, her face questioning.  I felt myself nod.  “I would take that as a hint,” I said.  Pulling on a pair of blue nitrile gloves from her jacket pocket, she disappeared into the hole then came backing out, a filthy, decaying cloth bag in one hand.

Setting it on the concrete, she handed her light to Caeco, who illuminated the bag while Krupp went to work with both hands.  Two—no, three—wallets, a necklace, a small handful of rings, some papers, and a watch all came out of the bag.

Mazar, also sporting blue gloves, started to look at the wallets.  She held up the second one to show me.  “This our guy?”  

I nodded, looking into the face of the phantasm made real in New York state-issued plastic officialdom.  “Thomas R. Parkston, resident of Tuxedo Park, New York,” I read out loud.

The whole basement lightened perceptively, the atmosphere suddenly brighter.

“That would be confirmation,” Caeco said, looking around at the basement, then at me.

“As would this letter, indicating young Thomas had an appointment here with a Doctor Wendle three and… a half years or so ago,” Krupp said, eyes still on the unfolded paper.

Krupp and Mazar exchanged another cryptic glance, then turned to me.  “Are we safe now?” Krupp asked.

“From Thomas?  I would guess so.  He’s achieved his goal… at least part of it.  He’s got your attention and you’re investigating.  Will you notify his family?” I asked.

“Yes, in a few days, when we’ve confirmed forensically that this is him,” Mazar said.  Both were still looking at me and the vibe had changed.

“And let me guess—time for me to leave?” I asked.

Mazar just stared at me, maybe fascinated, maybe excited about the case.  Krupp, though, nodded.  “Yeah, we think it’s best if you don’t get involved with the New York office, especially considering who you work for,” Krupp said.

“Right, well then, I’ll just meander home,” I said, suddenly feeling weird.

“Caeco will see you out,” Mazar said with a glance and a nod at my ex-girlfriend.

I nodded and turned away.  “Declan,” Krupp said, causing me to turn back.  “Thank you.”  Mazar nodded her agreement before both agents turned back to the pile of personal effects.

Caeco took my hand and pulled me toward the doorway.  I was only too happy to leave that creepy basement of death to the professionals.  She let go when we were in the hall, not looking at me but pushing at her short hair in that nervous gesture of hers.

“That was really cool,” she said when we were in the stairwell and headed up.

“What part?” I asked.

“The whole thing—from the moment it threw the book at you till it showed us the bag of effects,” she said.

“Yeah, it kinda was.  I don’t have much experience with ghosts.  More my aunt’s thing than mine.  You guys need to hire a few Air witches.”

“Air bitches you mean,” she said.  “I’d rather they brought on some psychometrists.”

“Yeah, wait till they become mainstream.  Can you picture a courtroom where a kid like Steve Colter was giving testimony while holding the victim’s watch?” I asked.

“Steve seems a little flighty,” Caeco said.

“That’s because he’s eighteen, nerdy, and never been laid,” I said.

“Oh?  Is that what separates the cool kids from the dweebs?  Virginity?” she asked, arching one brow at me.

“I’ll leave the ultimate determination to you scientists, but that’s my theory,” I said.

She grinned suddenly and looked down.

“What?” I asked.

She shrugged.  “I like that you called me a scientist,” she said.

“Why?  It’s what you are, just like your mother,” I said, uncertain of her emotions.

“See, everyone else thinks I’m a soldier or an assassin,” she said.

“Yeah well, you have to admit you’ve got mad skills, but really, once anyone gets to know you, I’m sure the nerd will shine through,” I said, which earned me a fast smack on the shoulder.  She pulled the punch though so it hardly stung. I’d rub it later.

We reached to door to the building and she stopped, suddenly uncertain, herself.

“Okay, I’ll leave you forensic types to your work,” I said, starting toward the open doorway.  A fast hand caught my shirt and she pulled me down for a quick kiss on the lips, then almost as fast pushed me upright again. 

“Thanks for the backup, D,” she said, an odd gleam in her eyes.