by Ken Lange
Blowing out a long breath, I said, “Short, and incomplete…but that’s a story for later. Would you mind if I headed to your place for the evening?”
She laughed. “Not at all. I’ll be home late, though. Is everything all right?”
I shook my head. “Not really. A new case just landed in my lap and it has me a bit befuddled. I need a quiet spot to do some research.”
She chuckled. “You’ve got a key. Wake me up when you’re finished, and we’ll catch up.”
“Okay.”
It took about ten minutes to get to her place, which was a light gray, two-story house with a wraparound porch on the ground level and a large expansive patio on the second, held up by six white columns.
I locked the door behind me and made my way upstairs to her grandfather’s office, which she’d been kind enough to let me use. At first, I’d turned down her offer, but she’d insisted, saying that the place creeped her out.
Her grandfather, Henri Noel Fabre, was some sort of scholar who’d done a lot of research, not to mention odd experiments, in the place, which, she said, had changed the energy in the room. Since I didn’t have any magic, or apparently any sensitivity to it, the supposed weirdness didn’t bother me in the slightest.
She’d thought about remodeling it a few times, but it was the last place anyone had seen him, and she couldn’t bring herself to change it.
The office door was made of mahogany and inlayed with magical scripts that even Kur had a difficult time translating. The walls were lined with ancient leather-bound tomes that rivaled my uncle’s private collection. There were numerous trinkets, crystals, and other magical devices that were beyond me.
After closing the door, I made my way over to the desk, pulled out my computer, and got to work digging up anything there was to find about the jinn. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much that wasn’t religious or purely fictional on the net. An hour later, I got off my ass and started searching the shelves in the hopes that her grandfather had something helpful. He’d been very organized. There was a section on spell work, general theory of magic, and an entire half wall dedicated to the different species.
It took a while, but I eventually stumbled on a rather ancient book that dealt with the various known realms, of which there were nine. The first was Asgard. According to Henri’s notes, he believed it to be an advanced version of a pocket reality. His theory was that someone of immense power had created it to house a living world made up of a single city. He referred to the former inhabitants as the Aesir, who were essentially immortals with near-godlike powers.
Next was Álfheimr. It was ruled over by a race of beings made of light and life itself. They’d once been creatures of peace and tranquility, but things had changed with the passage of time—and a never-ending war against their counterparts in Svartálfar. It’d been going on for so long that neither of them knew who’d struck first, and what had once been an empire of serenity and beauty had turned toxic. Henri speculated that their conflict had even reached our plane of existence.
The realm of Svartálfar was the polar opposite of the Álfheimr as they were beings of darkness and death. Their worlds were barren and made of onyx where the inhabitants lived under the crust, hidden from prying eyes. They were the counterbalance to the residents of Álfheimr…but at some point, they’d forgotten their purpose.
Midgard was the realm of man, and the one in which we lived. There wasn’t a lot in his notes other than it appeared we’d been cut off from the other realms somehow. While our universe was ever expanding, we were in some sort of self-contained loop that wasn’t in the same time and space as the others. Henri theorized that this had been done intentionally, but he had no idea how or why.
Jötunheimr was home to the giants. They were immensely powerful, intelligent, and, in some cases, downright chaotic. There were so many versions of the Jotunns it was hard to keep track of them. The one unifying factor amongst most, if not all, the different giant races was their hatred of the Aesir. He had no idea what they’d done to earn such loathing from these formidable, and slightly ill-tempered, people.
Vanaheimr was the realm he had the fewest notes on. Apparently, the beings here were as powerful as the Aesir, but likely an older race called the Vanir, who, by all accounts, lived up to the term deity. Their universe was just as vast and varied as our own, but with a higher level of technology.
Then there was Muspelheim, home of the primordial fire that had helped birth the universe. Due to its volatile nature, it existed in a constant state of flux and its inhabitants were the stuff of nightmares.
After sifting through a bunch of hurriedly written script, I discovered that the jinn were a subset of the shades who lived there. They were formless spirits in this world and needed a proper vessel to be made whole. As such, one of their main abilities allowed them to take control of an unconscious host.
If the person they inhabited had magical abilities, it’d enhance their otherworldly powers. On the other hand, if the body were that of a normal human, they’d be significantly hamstringed.
Resting my forehead in my hand, I let out a growl. God help me if that was a limited jinni…and under no circumstances did I ever want to meet one at the height of its powers.
Returning my attention to the journal, I focused on the last two realms. To be honest, Henri’s notes here were more than a little lackluster.
Niflheim was the land of mist, and the origin of the wraith, along with a host of other things that sent chills up my spine.
Finally, there was Hel, the realm of the dead. Yeah, it sounded corny to me too, but, apparently, this was where the recently and sometimes not-so-recently departed were parked before moving beyond the veil. It was this pause that allowed necromancers to reach through the Aether and pull souls back to this world, forever preventing them from moving on.
I set the book aside, took a deep breath, and cupped my face in my hands. This…tome contained the names of the Svartálfar and Álfheimr, essentially bringing the vision Anubis had shown me out of myth and placing it squarely in reality before me. How was I to navigate the machine gods made of light and dark? Exhaustion crept in along with a host of other questions. Unable to keep my eyes open, I closed them and fell into a nightmare.
Chapter 4
May 2nd
A little after four, I woke with a start, drenched in sweat. Sitting upright, I rubbed my shaky hands over my face in an attempt to push away the last vestiges of the godawful dreams. My stomach turned as the fragments skittered through my brain. Eventually, the eerie sensation subsided and I got up to face the day. Twenty minutes later, I was dressed and headed to the bedroom to check on Heather.
When I stuck my head in, she was on her side with her hands under her cheek, sleeping. I didn’t have the heart to wake her. Instead, I opted for making breakfast in the hopes the smell of good food would do my dirty work for me. I’d just plated the bacon when the telltale thud of footsteps coming down the stairs reached me. While I wasn’t finished, there was enough to mollify her until the eggs could be made. I put a plate with several pieces of bacon and a sausage patty in front of her as she took a seat at the table.
She glanced up at me with a blank look on her face. “Fork.”
I scrambled over to the drawer and pulled out some silverware, flipping her egg before handing her the utensils. “Of course, my lady.”
She backhanded my chest and grinned. “That’s still not funny.”
“Says you.” I gestured at myself on my way back to the stove. “I think it’s hilarious.”
Heather huffed out a laugh. “No one’s ever accused you of being the sharpest tool in the shed.”
After placing the eggs on a plate, I moved over to the table. “That might be true, but you’re the one sleeping with me, so what does that say about you?”
She giggled. “It says you’re kind of hot. Now give me my egg and tell me what’s going on.”
It took about twenty minutes to catch her up on the prev
ious day. She was particularly intrigued by Duncan and the jinni, right up until I told her about the book in her grandfather’s library. The moment she heard Henri’s name, you could practically see the walls go up around her. She pushed her plate away and folded her arms.
“What’s up with you and your grandfather anyway? Anytime something comes up about him, you completely shut down.”
Heartache etched its way across her face. “It’s really hard to explain.”
“Would you at least try?”
Tears threatened to fall as the edges of her mouth twitched between a smile and a frown. “My father…wasn’t a kind man. Especially to me. No matter how much I didn’t want it to, it still hurt.” Dabbing a napkin to her eyes, she wiped away the wetness. “Henri, however, was the man I wish Robert could’ve been. He was kind, brilliant, and caring.” Her voice sounded far away as a smile filled with sadness slipped onto her face. “He did everything he could to make me feel important and wanted. The man loved to tinker with things, creating toys for me powered by magic.” She held up her finger with the ring on it. “Pépère even created this to help hide the fact that I was a sorcerer and not a witch. I told him everything and he kept me safe, gave me hope.” Her voice dropped. “He also had a serious side. His precious research. The things he built were spectacular…awe-inspiring, actually. But they paled in comparison to his work. With a wave of his hand, he gave me glimpses of the most magnificent worlds I’d ever seen. Sometimes they were terrifying and others…well, I assume that’s what heaven looks like.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “It was nearing my birthday and we hadn’t heard from him. I came over to check on him, but no one answered. I called Mom, and she came to unlock the door. We spent the next few years looking for him, but it became painfully clear that the worst had happened. After that, I needed to get away, and I went to New York.” Sniffing, she continued, “Even after I came home, the thought of living here was too much and I bought a condo across the lake. About five years ago, I decided to step up my training. To do that, I needed to live in the city.” Gesturing around us, she said, “That’s when I moved in here to be closer to Andrew and my mother.”
Confused, I asked, “Why didn’t you want to live here? This is a fantastic place.”
She shrugged. “It was just too painful to be in his home and not have him here.”
“I’m sorry.”
Placing her hand on mine, she offered me a sad smile. “It’s okay.” She cleared her throat and dried her face. “On the upside, though, the library has proved useful, so that’s a good thing.”
I grinned. “It’s been far more helpful than Lazarus or the internet.”
She’d opened her mouth to say something when my phone rang.
My smile faded when I glanced down at the screen.
“Morning, Isidore.”
He sounded tired. “Good, you’re awake.”
Concerned, I sat up a bit straighter in my seat. “You all right?”
He took a deep breath. “Yeah, we’ve found him.”
I put my fork on the plate, and got to my feet. “Where are you?”
He lowered his voice. “We’re just outside Mardi Gras World near the Crescent City Connection. How fast can you get here?”
I checked my watch. “Give me about ten minutes, and if he moves, call.”
“Will do.”
Leaning over, I kissed Heather on the forehead. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go.”
She nodded. “Stay safe.”
I pocketed the phone. “I’ll do my best.”
After hustling up the stairs, I grabbed my bag and made my way out to the Tucker. The city of New Orleans was sure to send me several photos to document the fact that I’d been speeding, not to mention running a couple of stoplights but, eventually, I found the place and parked in a lot about a half block away. Doing my best to remain discreet, I carried my bag instead of strapping on my swords.
For the first time since I’d lived here, I was grateful for road construction as it blocked my approach. Isidore was waiting for me behind one of the massive dumpsters across the street from the warehouse that was Mardi Gras World.
He waved me over. “Duncan’s still inside. Dean’s on the other side, making sure he doesn’t slip out the back. What’s the plan?”
I pulled my swords out and clipped them in place. “I’m going in. You two stay out here and make sure he doesn’t escape.”
Isidore frowned. “You really think that’s a great idea?”
I shrugged. “No, but unless you’ve got a better one….”
His lips twisted into a snarl. “If you get yourself killed, a whole lot of people are going to be pissed at me.”
Sighing, I said, “I wouldn’t be very happy about it either.”
Before he could berate me any further, I walked across the street and made my way into the warehouse. There, I drew my pistol and kept it at the ready as I cleared the place room by room. After getting through the reception area, break room, and a couple of sales offices, I found myself in the massive room where they built the floats for the parades.
If the signage was to be believed, the one nearest me was being made for the king of Rex. While it was only about halfway done, there was a throne sitting on a raised dais just past the halfway point…which was currently occupied by Duncan.
He got to his feet and started a slow clap. “About time you got here. I was afraid your underlings would try to bring me in on their own.”
I motioned for him to come down. “There’s no reason for this to get ugly. If you’ll join me on the floor here, we can talk about this like grownups.”
Duncan snickered. “Oh, really?” In one fluid motion, he jumped down to stand in front of me. “Okay, I’m here. What’s on your mind?”
I thumbed over my shoulder. “Let’s go back to the church—”
The little shit punched me in the gut, doubling me over. A half second later, he raised his knee to connect with my face, but by that point my shadow armor had enveloped me. Even so, the force of the blow landed me flat on my back and knocked my gun out of my hand.
The kid was a lot stronger than he looked. After rolling to the side, I got to my feet. Smoke trailed from his fingers to grab several pieces of loose rebar. He’d apparently decided to play pin the tail on the donkey…and I was the donkey.
The first iron spike missed me by a fraction of an inch and buried itself several inches into the concrete. I wasn’t as lucky with the second. He hammered it against my chest like a bat, sending me sprawling into the nearest wall hard enough to dent the I-beam next to the door and crack my armor. Gasping for breath, I dove across the doorway as he launched three pieces of metal my way. I’d expected to hear the clanking of steel on tin, but instead there was a soft squishy sound followed quickly by an intake of breath suddenly cut short.
I glanced over to find a woman pinned to the wall like some sick anatomy lesson. Anger welled inside me as I raised my hand and sent a massive chunk of ice speeding across the room. It slammed into the side of his face, whipping his head around and splattering blood on a nearby wall. There was a better than average chance he wasn’t going to get up from that.
A small groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself to his feet. The wounds on his face healed in an instant and he took off at a run toward the rear of the building. The back wall didn’t have an exit but that didn’t slow him down. He actually picked up speed as flames encased him, making him look like a giant candle flame. Even though I was a dozen feet behind him, the intense heat made it difficult to breathe and his every step charred the cement floor. The tin wall didn’t stand a chance, melting like wax as he passed through it. The moment we were out in the open, black smoke spun around him, lifting him into the air to carry him away so fast I couldn’t track his trajectory.
That was just great. The asshole could fly. How very wonderful for him.
Dean padded up beside me with his gaze fixed skyward. “Well, that’s new.”
I nodded.
“Yeah.”
He pointed at the hole in the wall. “We should probably get Isidore.”
The image of the woman’s dead body flashed to the forefront of my mind. “We’ll need to secure the building and call the UCD.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Over a hole in the wall?”
I shook my head. “There was an unexpected casualty. I’m guessing the lady in question worked here.”
He frowned. “Shit.”
I guided him through the facility and out the other side, where Isidore was doing his best to convince a slightly overweight gentleman in his late thirties that he couldn’t enter.
Dean elbowed me. “Swords.”
I handed the blades over. “Thanks.”
He quickly tucked them behind his back. “No problem.”
The chubby little man’s gaze fell on me, and he pointed. “Are you the one in charge here?”
This wasn’t going to be unpleasant at all. Stepping forward, I pulled out my ID and showed it to him. “My name is Gavin Randall with the Uncommon Crimes Division, and yes, I’m in charge.” Pausing, I looked down at the rather large bald spot atop his head. “And you are?”
He flattened his shirt over his swollen gut. “My name is Dennis Miller.” Dennis gestured at the open door we’d just come out of. “I have a business to run, and I’d appreciate it if you people got out of my way.”
Less than two dozen words and I already disliked him. That had to be some sort of record. I waved him forward. “You’re the manager here?”
He stepped closer and folded his arms. “General manager.”
Like that made some sort of difference. “Follow me. I need your help identifying someone.” I guided the three of them into the room where the woman was unceremoniously pinned to the wall. “Any idea who she is?”
Dennis made a retching sound as he slapped his hand over his mouth. A few seconds later, he said, “That’s Susan. She was supposed to come in and get things set up for the day…I’m going to guess that didn’t happen.” He checked his watch. “How long will it take you to clean this up? We’ve got a lot to do today and from the look of things, we’ll be shorthanded.”