by C. T. Phipps
The bathroom door to my side was open and led to a gross interior where an Ultralogist cultist’s body was sitting on the toilet, having been shot in the head. It was an ugly image, but nothing I hadn’t seen before.
“No dignity,” I said, shaking my head.
“Death is rarely dignified,” I said. “At least he was on the commode when his bowels emptied.”
“Yeah,” I said, grimacing. Being a weredeer, I could always smell that happening to corpses. “So you knew that guy, Charles?”
“Laura did,” Alex said, sighing. There was a dreamy, mournful quality to his next words. “She was the person who convinced me people should be redeemed, if at all possible, versus killed.”
“She sounds like a nice girl,” I said, feeling strangely jealous of the late married older FBI agent.
“She was special,” Alex said, the regret still heavy in his voice. “I’ve only known a few people like her. Charles reminds me not everyone will accept the chances people give them. I have no doubt he helped her right up until the point when it became dangerous.”
“People who sit on the fence get kicked by both sides,” I said. “Uh, Alex, I had a vision of Judith shooting you in the head. Try not to let that happen to you.”
Alex paused. “That would be an unfortunate way to die.”
I wasn’t sure if I could ask him to shoot her if she tried to do it because, murderous little brat or not, it was still killing a kid. “I’m just saying, if you need my Taser then it’s an option.”
Alex laughed at my statement.
“Not joking,” I said.
Alex looked over the maps on the bed, stepping over Jones’s body like it was garbage. “So his plan was to find the Dryad and bind it in Robyn’s body so he could take her over and wield the powers of a god?”
“That is some Big Trouble in Little China supervillain craziness,” I said, shaking my head. “But yeah, basically. Eventually, Mother Nature destroys Bright Falls in response. Nice to know actual honest-to-Goddess divine punishment is for stuff like trying to enslave the universe instead of voting Democrat.”
“I’m Independent,” Alex said, lifting up the white bishop. “I wonder if this means anything? No, it’s just finding symbols in things that don’t exist.”
“Shouldn’t you be the white knight?” I asked. “You know, black and white tending to go with the former as bad and the latter good.”
Alex shook his head. “Like Johnny Cash, I believe black is the color of the good guys and white is the color of the wicked. One hides behind the light while the other embraces all its many colors.”
“That’s a beautiful, albeit meaningless, statement,” I said, walking forward to examine the body. “Okay, I better get to seeing who killed Dr. Evil.”
I may have already mentioned it since I loathed using it in just about any situation involving murder, death, or infanticide, but my Gift sucked. Being able to get psychic impressions off objects was really only useful when you wanted to verify if an object was real or when it was involved in a horrible crime. I had better control over it now than in my teenage years so I wasn’t picking up on things like what Jeremy had done on his sheets when doing the laundry, but that was small potatoes compared to reliving people’s last minutes.
Reaching down to touch the knife in the man’s chest, I heard Alex speak. “You don’t actually have to do this, Jane. It’s not your responsibility to help me clean up Kim Su and my messes.”
“Hey, I want to help,” I said, only slightly fudging the truth. “Also, I don’t see how the Ultralogists are your fault.”
“Kim Su trained my father who trained Dr. Jones.”
I blinked. “Is it just me or is your life basically Star Wars?”
“Thankfully, I was never involved in a relationship with Lucien,” Alex said.
I stared at him.
“Please tell me that’s not a mental image you have,” Alex said.
“No,” I said, lying outright. “Of course not.”
I wrapped my hand around the knife and found myself, thankfully, just feeling the impression of the past couple of hours. The knife was enchanted and full of unholy energies that caused the vision to be confusing and dream-like. It was like everything was wrapped through a green filter.
The man carrying the knife was nervous, sick with himself, actually but also determined. He was wearing a thick flannel overcoat despite this being summer. He was also carrying an amulet that made him less likely to be noticed. It was the same kind of weird sorcery that had been used on the griffon, since I could feel the pain inside his body from where it was killing him. The man using the magic knew it was toxic but believed the use of said magic was worth the cost.
He walked up from a green-and-brown jeep to the door, passing by several Ultralogists who paid him no mind before knocking his fist against the door of room seventeen. I could tell the man was African American, but couldn’t adjust my perspective of the knife to see his face. The magic was too strong and interfering with my gaze.
The door opened and Dr. Jones answered it. “Oh, it’s you.”
“We need to talk,” a distorted, confused voice spoke.
Jones snorted. “I don’t think there’s anything you have to tell me I would want to hear.”
The knife holder coughed, blood coming up his mouth. “I know what you’re up to.”
Jones turned around and walked away, leaving the door open. “I think not. Besides, you were happy when I first picked her up.”
“You lied to me,” he said.
“I lie to everyone,” Jones replied. “Besides, I’m saving your precious forest, aren’t I?”
“There is no forest without Her,” the knife holder said, reaching down into his overcoat pocket and clutching it. I could hear the capitalization in the last of his words. This man had a very close relationship to the Dryad.
Not sexual, something deeper.
Jones went over to his chess board, which was still on the side of the bed, and moved a white knight. “You need to think of the larger picture, friend. We’re running out of environment to despoil and becoming an overpopulated hellhole. Not just of humans either. The vampires are breeding out of control now that no one is hunting them and their leaders have lost the right to cull their progeny at will. Speaking as a man who intends to live forever, we need to make sure there’s a Mother Earth in the coming centuries. What better way to do that than make the Earthmother a being they can worship? They’re so sick of spirit and in need of something to worship they’ll flock to Ultralogy and abandon their old gods. A new creed will replace the old that will be sweet, sugary, and in line with modern morality. One that will give them the direction they need to fix this planet’s problems.”
I was surprised, really, to find out that Jones believed at least some of what he preached. It was still grossly cynical, but I couldn’t say it was entirely wrong. Then again, I wasn’t a big fan of the public at large myself. It was easy to dismiss the environment in your air-conditioned apartments, but not so much when you had to avoid cars every few miles of your moonlight run.
“I don’t disagree with anything you’ve said,” the man said, taking a deep breath.
“Thank you,” Jones said, standing up to put his hand on the knife wielder’s shoulder.
The knife wielder stabbed Jones in the heart. “But you’re not hurting Robyn.”
The knife glowed when it entered Jones’s chest, causing blood to pour out of his mouth. The weapon’s black magic easily tore through the cult leader’s defenses and quenched his life. I could see his spirit depart his body before it was dead, though, flying away through the door. The man holding the knife let Jones’s body fall before he pulled out a silencer-equipped Desert Eagle and opened the bathroom door, killing the man inside. He felt regret for doing so but was still determined to do what he felt was the greater good.
Then nothing.
The vision ended.
I took my hand from the knife. “Okay, our bla
ck magician is working alone. I think. He didn’t exactly strike me as a joiner. He’s also dying.”
“I see,” Alex said, taking a deep breath. “His motives?”
“Protect Robyn and the Dryad,” I said. “Is it possible the Brotherhood of the Tree still exists?”
“A very good question,” Alex said, looking back. “One that will only be answered, I believe, by visiting the Dryad herself.”
I nodded then turned around to see the man who’d died in the bathroom. He was standing up, not wearing any pants, with a huge hole in his head. He stretched out his arms and walked toward me.
“Jane,” the dead man moaned.
Would you be disappointed to hear I screamed?
Chapter Sixteen
I pulled out my gun and aimed it at the dead man before firing twice. The bullets passed through the figure and landed against the hotel wall beside the door.
“What the hell!?” I asked, staring as the figure stuck his arms into my face and waved them around.
It felt a bit like a chilly breeze before I walked through the figure, unharmed.
“It’s a ghost,” Alex said.
“I know ghosts,” I said, staring at it. “They look like my grandfather and don’t look like they were shot on the commode like this guy.”
“Your grandfather is an actual spirit of the dead,” Alex said, looking at the moaning creature that turned around to go for me again. “This is more the malevolence and anger of someone left behind. Call it a poltergeist or specter if you need to differentiate it.”
“How do I get rid of it?” I asked, stepping out of its way as it stumbled after me again. It was like a immaterial zombie—not very smart. “Also, how does it know my name?”
“Search me,” Alex said, frowning. “It may be trying to pass on a message.”
“Park, park, park,” the specter moaned. “Ranger.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “I think it said ‘Park Ranger’.”
“No kidding,” Alex said. “Stick your hand into it and tell it to go away.”
“What?” I asked.
“You’re a shaman,” Alex said, shrugging. “Also, you’re much stronger than me.”
“In death magic?” I asked.
“Just do it,” Alex said.
“All right,” I said, jabbing my fist into the specter’s chest. “Get ye to the afterlife, Casper.”
The specter burst into flames, letting out a silent scream as he did so.
I looked over to Alex. “Is that supposed to happen?”
“Usually it’s a ray of light,” Alex said, grimacing. “This fellow seems to have gone someplace unpleasant.”
A year ago, I didn’t believe in Hell. I believed no truly good deity could condemn an innocent soul to an eternity of suffering. That was before I got banished there by the Big Bad Wolf for five minutes (Alex with me). I’d also encountered a number of demons from there since. I wasn’t sure how this affected my worldview but it was uncomfortably true that evil existed in a spiritual form rather than just as an opposite of good.
I could have told you that, Raguel said.
Hush you, I said. I’m having a spiritual crisis and the last thing I need is an angel butting in with answers.
Fair enough, Raguel said.
Clara and Emma emerged at the other side of the police tape seconds later.
“Are you okay?” Clara asked. “We heard shots.”
“It’s fine, just a ghost,” I said, looking at the door. “I didn’t hit anyone, did I?”
“No,” Clara said, shaking her head. “You did shoot out an Ultralogist’s window, though.”
“Thank the gods,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Gun safety is an issue when you’re faced with immaterial beings.”
Emma looked around. “Is the ghost still here?”
“No,” I said, looking around. “He’s gone down where the goblins go, below, yo-ho-ho.”
“Middle Earth?” Emma asked, confused.
I shook my head. “In any case, I think we’re done here. Do you have anything to add, Alex?”
Alex lifted up a white king from the chessboard in a handkerchief and looked at it for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. “Yes, I have everything I need. Thank you for letting us view the crime scene, Sheriff.”
“You’re welcome,” Clara said, frowning. “I don’t like doing favors for friends, but I like the idea of cultists and baby murderers even less. Besides, I know you guys are the good guys. Anyone else would have shot me when I was possessed.”
Raguel had said we should shoot Clara while she was possessed, but I was glad we exorcised her instead. Not the least because it had obviously come in handy a bit down the line. “We’re close to finding out who was responsible.”
“Well, make sure you tell me so we can hang them,” Clara said, giving a thumbs-up.
“Yeah, because that’s not creepy,” I muttered, walking to the police tape and just stepping through as it got in my face. I didn’t want to spend another minute in room seventeen. Emma helped remove the tape as Alex departed with me.
“Did you find anything out?” Emma asked, joining at my hip.
“Maybe,” I said, frowning. “It seems like there could be a remnant of the Brotherhood of Trees in the area.”
“You think there’s a three hundred-year-old group of druids still secretly living in Bright Falls?” Emma asked skeptically.
“Versus the secret sect of shapechangers?” I asked.
Emma didn’t have an answer for that.
My stomach growled. “Listen, I think we’re all at our wits’ end and need a break. Emma, can you join the hunters and Robyn to keep an eye on them until we’re ready to go out into the woods. Alex has said we can get the divining rod to work on finding the Dryad. We need to do that so we can…figure something out. That doesn’t involve killing her. So we’ll also need some supplies. Do you think you can handle that, Lieutenant O’Henry?”
“You want to hang out with your boyfriend you haven’t seen in months and want me to get lost,” Emma said, nodding. “Gotcha.”
“Evil truth-telling doggie,” I muttered, scratching behind her ears.
“This is racist,” Emma said, smiling broadly. “Please don’t stop.”
I didn’t for a few seconds. “You know me so well, Prince Woof-Woof. Now go, play.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m going to buy the ugliest pair of hiking boots imaginable.”
“That means they’re effective,” I said, pointing to the car across the street. “Only my sister, mother, and all my other female relatives care about sexy hoofware.”
Emma departed and, for once, nothing seemed to be going bad. The fact this was a sentiment I had in the middle of two murder investigations as well as a fight against gentrification said just how crazy my life had become.
“Boyfriend?” Alex asked, standing beside me.
“Unless you have a problem with it?” I asked.
“Nope,” Alex said, sighing. “My relationships have been a bit unorthodox, though.”
“Not much time for socializing in the nuthouse?”
Alex looked down at me, raising one eyebrow.
I winced, realizing this was probably one of the subjects that Alex wasn’t actually comfortable making jokes about. Mental health facilities had come a long way since Bedlam House, but I got the impression Alex’s place of treatment wasn’t one of the nicer ones. I took a deep breath and stretched out my arms. “Would you believe I have no filter on my mouth?”
“Actually yes,” Alex said, smiling again. “Of course, that is one of my own flaws. It comes with my atypical brain chemistry.”
“It comes with my not giving a flying buck,” I said, having embraced my deer pun habits. “I tried to be nice to people and all it ended up as was getting be ground underhoof by the world’s herd mentality.”
“You already used a hoof pun,” Alex said.
“Dammit,” I said. “I guess my songwriting career is out o
f the question.”
“Yes, deer.”
“I see what you did there,” I said, smiling. Said smile left my face when I saw Judith staring at us from the second floor of the Lumberjack Inn, looking in between the balcony bars. It was a glare of death and I wondered what the little troll was plotting. I shouldn’t have been concerned about a pre-teen trying to kill me, but I’d already seen her kill the strongest mage I knew so I thought my paranoia was justified.
Using the innocent as soldiers is a Hell-worthy offense.
I could have figured that out on my own, Raguel, I said.
Just checking.
I clasped my hands and looked over at Alex. “So let’s get some cherry pie and coffee.”
“I actually don’t like cherry pie,” Alex said.
I stopped in mid-step, horrified.
“Just kidding,” Alex said, raising his hands in mock protest. “I do like apple more, though.”
“You monster,” I said, horrified. “How could you?”
Alex chuckled. “It’s good to be back, Jane.”
I hesitated to ask my next question. “Are you really giving up a position at Quantico because you don’t want it?”
“You’re asking me, I assume, if I’m actually coming to live here at Bright Falls because I want to be with you rather than my career?”
“Uh, yes?”
“Partially,” Alex said, looking at me. “The truth is, I’ve had enough of serial killers and monsters to last a lifetime. My entire life has been one long road trip between evil-doer after evil-doer that I don’t have enough gas left in me to keep going. I don’t want to continue hammering the gavel of judgment without knowing what exactly I’m hammering for.”
I felt the back of my head and tried to parse what he said. “Okay, three things that come to mind. First: You can’t say evil-doer in a sentence without sounding ridiculous. It doesn’t work if you’re the president, it doesn’t work if you’re a wizard. Second, I think the hammering metaphor is a big deal. Three, you shouldn’t do things just because of romance because—”
“You don’t know if it’ll work out?” Alex asked.