by J. P. Rice
The itch I used to get when starting a case popped up again and begged to be scratched. I had to ignore the feeling, or it would get worse. Like poison ivy.
In an “I vant to suck your blood” vampire accent, Goibniu said, “But since you’re retired, I guess you’ll be going back into hibernation.” Chuckling, he steepled his fingers in front of his jiggling chins.
This put me in an awkward position. “I might go to Pittsburgh, but I’m not chasing the spear anymore. I’m just going to stop by and say hi to all my friends.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You have friends besides me?”
I laughed internally. “Surprisingly, yes. Thanks for letting me sip from your chalice. I’ll probably be seeing you much more often now that I’m aging like this.”
“You should go see Dian Cécht,” Goibniu suggested. “Take a quick soak in his healing cauldron. That should take care of those weary bones. Or you could take some magic from someone with strong healing powers.”
They were good suggestions, but my magic stealing days were over. “No. In fact, don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me. I’m not ready to see the Gods right now. I don’t know if I ever want to see them again for that matter.”
He agreed, “I understand that more than most. You flying out of here yourself, or do you need a lift?”
“I’d love to fly myself, but that distance would make me use a lot of magic and age greatly. I have to be careful now. I can’t be reckless.” A frown formed on my face at the harsh realization.
“Too bad for you. But don’t worry, we’ll get you where you need to go.” He waved his hand around in the air and a few seconds later, Theodoro stood next to us. Goibniu gave me a hug goodbye, and said, “Just tell him where you’re going, and he’ll find you a flight.”
Nodding, Theodoro said, “The peryton named Red Streak is ready to go. What is your destination, Junipher?”
Pittsburgh or Hilton Head?
The choice had seemed easy less than an hour ago. I’d planned to go right back to Hilton Head and stay away from all the nonsense waiting for me up north.
Why had Goibniu uttered those two words?
Lugh’s Spear.
Chapter 4
As I opened the door to the Not Normal Agency, something across the street caught my eye. A mother and daughter were walking down the street, holding hands. I stared longingly, chewing the inside of my left cheek and contemplating how cruel life could be.
That was all I’d ever wanted. A simple life with a husband and kids. How had everything spiraled out of control? I’d done my best with the hand the Gods had dealt me. At least, I’d convinced myself of that.
In the distance, I heard a train leaving the station capped with a ceremonious woo-hoo and a hearty smokestack blast. People embarking on different chapters of their lives. A chance at a new start. And here I was, back to the same old chapter I’d always gotten stuck on and never finished.
I took in some frosty Pittsburgh air, exhaled a breath cloud and stepped inside the door. The simple one room office had two desks facing the door and the smell of fast food fries hit me instantly. I recognized the man and woman behind each desk. Barely.
It was as if I’d traveled thirty years ahead in a time machine. As an immortal, I sometimes forgot how cruel Father Time could be. Lauren and Randall had worked here when I walked out that door over thirty years ago.
“Oh, shit,” Randall exclaimed.
My trusty friends set aside their lunches, got up and walked over to hug me. I didn’t mind hugging humans. They wouldn’t sap your powers. I took my coat off, set it on the back of a chair and took a good look at my employees.
The last time I’d seen Lauren Underhill, she was as skinny as a rail. Now, she appeared plump and grandmotherly. She wore her blond hair—highlighted with notes of gray—up in a bun with two pencils holding it together.
Randall Lawton was around thirty the last time I’d seen him. The plump man was dressed in black and gold Steelers gear from head to toe. He wore his winter hat inside, but he wore it high enough so that I could see some of his hair. His jet-black hair had gone white except for a few remaining dark streaks.
We spent a few minutes catching up on the past. I told them the same things I’d told Zeus and Goibniu and respected that they didn’t ask about my time at the Red Cavern. I still wasn’t ready to talk about that dark period that had only created one faint ray of hope.
Randall put his hand on my shoulder and spoke with a thick Pittsburgh accent, “’Fore you even ask, like I know yinz was gonna, we ain’t heard nothin’ ‘bout Darabond. Sorry.”
I looked at him with a strained smile. “Am I that easy to read?”
Lauren put her hand on my arm and tickled my elbow. Apparently, she hadn’t kicked that creepy habit over the past three decades. “We know you, June. Nobody’s pulling for you more than us. I still can’t believe it’s you. How the hell have you gotten younger, by the way?”
I smirked shyly and turned away. “A lady never tells her secrets.”
“Well luckily, you’re not a lady,” Lauren joked, but there was thorned truth to her words.
Randall laughed and limped over to his desk. The Not Normal Agency had been set up in the mid-70s mainly to gather intelligence about the supernatural happenings in Pittsburgh. Jonathan Rickleshaw—one of the top vampires in Pittsburgh—and I had started the Agency to keep our fingers on the pulse of the undead.
The operation was simple. We sent out detectives to gather information and they called it into the office. It was a great gig for Normals who wanted to be part of the supernatural life. I was glad to see Jonathan hadn’t shuttered the agency after I’d disappeared. It was a great resource after all.
“So what has been going on in Pittsburgh lately?” I asked casually as I turned around a picture on Randall’s desk of him and his family on the beach. It was ironic that I’d felt sorry for Randall’s aging earlier because this picture made me jealous of his life. I’d trade my immortality in a second for a family to call my own.
Randall cocked his head to the side. “Come on, June. Is it just a crazy co-winky-dink that you show up right when rumors of Lugh’s Spear are running rampant?”
“Maybe. There have been stranger coincidences,” I mumbled. “I have heard a word or two about the Spear. What do you two know?”
Lauren leaned over her desk and scooped up a pack of Nicorette. Good for her. She was a ‘two packs a day’ gal the last time I’d seen her. She shoved the gum into her mouth, and as she chewed it, she said, “Nothing good. He said this. But she said this. It’s all just hot air now. Bunch of different stories with no similar pattern to follow. No real bites. With that said, there’s a hell of a lot of barking going on around the city.”
Good. I didn’t need to be chasing that cursed object again. “Hasn’t that happened a hundred times before only to end up being blown out of proportion?”
“Not wit’ the amount of chatter we hearin’ right now. I don’t want to say nothin’ that could turn out to be bullshit. Even if it does turn up around here, yinz ain’t got nothin’ to worry about with Mike Merlino around.”
“What the fook is a Mike Merlino?” I asked, confused.
Lauren stuffed her gum in her cheek. She giggled as she said, “No. His name’s Mike Merlino. He seems to have a lot of titles, but he’s been dubbed the magical guardian of Pittsburgh, sent by the Celtic Gods to protect the city.”
The words felt like a dagger being plunged into my chest. Pittsburgh was my city. And the Gods had just twisted the blade. “I’ve heard a few things about this kid.”
Lauren shook her head, eyes wide. “Oh, he’s no kid.” She counted on her fingers as she continued, “He’s already defeated the Jersey Devil, the Sendal Spirits, saved the city from the dragons of Sleepy Willow, liberated Sleepy Willow of the tyrannical King Ballistar and rescued Cyclone Woman so that the tornadoes would stop.”
Hearing it all laid out made for a proper resume. I had to figure ou
t how to use this kid to my advantage. “How long has he been the guardian for? Ten? Fifteen years?”
Randall stated bluntly, “Less than two.” He waved two fingers, unnecessarily reinforcing his words.
Holy shit. That meant he had a great deal of magical power that would only grow with time. Much as I’d like to write him off and go about my business, I couldn’t underestimate this little shit. “Is there anything else going on around here?”
Randall held two long fingers horizontally in front of his chest. “Two of the four horsemen was spotted a few weeks back.” He thought for a moment, tapping his chin with his fingers. “Nah. Spotted is an understatement. Them mufuggers caused a damn ruckus down at the strip club on 31st Street.”
“Which two?” I asked.
“Arn and Ole. They started wrestling each other and the bouncers tried to break it up and it just went haywire from there,” Lauren said and spit her gum into the wastebasket next to her desk.
I couldn’t believe it. Something big was brewing in my city. “War and Famine are in Pittsburgh. What else do you know?”
Randall shrugged his shoulders. “That’s it. None of our sources spoke directly to either of them. So we ain’t sure what their purpose is.”
Their purpose was always clear. Wherever they went, death followed. Was it connected to Lugh’s Spear? The Horsemen were an ominous precursor to say the least.
Lauren handed me a small, rectangular object. I asked, “What’s this?”
She narrowed her eyes and appeared confused. “It’s a cell phone.”
“I see that. I thought it had something crazy worked into it like a James Bond gadget.” Being out of the mythical relic hunting game had provided a lot of time to binge read a lot of books and watch plenty of television shows and movies. I missed having access to the Celtic Library and the Sacred Pages of magic secrets, so I had entertained myself mostly with Netflix and my Kindle.
Lauren pointed at the phone as she spoke, “It makes phone calls and sends texts, nothing crazy. When you called earlier and said you were stopping by, it didn’t give me much time. But I just uploaded the numbers of all your former contacts into this phone. I don’t know if they are current, but these numbers were all I had to go on from your files.”
“I suppose I will need a new phone, no matter how much I hate technology.” I went to stuff it in my pocket.
Lauren’s eyes lit up as if she had just remembered a great secret. “Oh wait, there is one cool feature on this. Let me see it.”
I handed the phone to Lauren. She backed up, pressed a few buttons on it and pointed it at me. A loud camera click sounded, and Lauren walked up to me. She showed me the screen of my headshot. Not to be too narcissistic, but I looked damn good for my age.
“You can take a picture of someone else, even just their head, and then project a full body image of the person. Down to every exact inch.” She pressed a button at the bottom of the picture and a beam of light sprang from the phone.
It projected a life-size image of my head and then it filled in my body, including the clothes I was wearing. It was like looking in a mirror, exact height too. Lauren said, “You can use this if you are trying to shift to look like someone else. You probably don’t need it with your skills, but this will give you a full image of their body so you can replicate it exactly.”
“That might come in handy if I ever remember to use it,” I joked.
Lauren added, “Well, it’s the only special thing this phone does so there won’t be a bunch of apps to confuse you.”
“And there’s one other thing yinz’ll be needing.” Randall jiggled a set of keys in his hand as he approached me. “Your company car awaits in the garage at the end of the block. There’s directions on the passenger seat to your new town house. Give it a few hours so we can stock it with food and supplies. Then, she’s all yours.”
“Thank you. It was so nice to see both of you. I’ll be back soon.” I hugged them again and went on my way.
I picked up my chariot in the form of a modified Jeep Wrangler with a 6-inch suspension lift. The red apple body with chromed step bars and edging made for a bad ass vehicle well suited for off-roading. In this crazy business, having those capabilities could only help. As I drove down the street, I dialed up a six-hundred-year-old vampire whom I needed to visit.
Chapter 5
Lexis, the female vampire concierge, knocked on Jonathan’s office door. A muffled yell sounded from inside. She opened the door and poked her head in the crack. “Jonathan, Gale is here to see you. She doesn’t have an...”
I heard a familiar voice cut her off, “Send her in right away.”
Gale Sutherland was my undercover name. I used it for obvious reasons. Lexis pushed the door open and I strolled into the beautifully decorated office with museum quality paintings hanging on the walls. Picasso. Marc Chagall. It was a regular who’s who of famous artists.
My gaze quickly landed on Guernica and a jolt of pride shot through me. I stared at the Picasso piece that represented the German bombings of the town named Guernica. I shivered thinking about the death and destruction in Guernica.
However, I also realized how much additional mayhem I had stopped by taking the spear away from the Nazis. The pride was laced with a bitter sweetness knowing if the spear ever landed in the wrong hands, it could spell doom.
A dirty-blond man stood near the two chairs facing Jonathan’s desk. “I’m glad we can still work together. Let me know if you hear anything else I might need to know.”
“Absolutely,” Jonathan told him as he walked across the room to meet me.
Jonathan looked tiny standing next to this strapping young man who appeared to be a vampire, but a damn sexy one at that. It was like an old King Arthur next to a young and mighty Lancelot. Jonathan had a round, pumpkin-colored face, gray eyes and long, ebony hair tied in a ponytail. His orange-tinted skin separated him from the other vampires who were ghostly white.
The blond man, although pale and sweaty, had chiseled facial features, a strong jawline and a perfect smile. I looked down shyly, caught off guard by the sparkling circular slivers of sapphire irises that were barely visible because of his dime-sized pupils. I wasn’t attracted to him sexually due to my allegiance to my husband, but I could appreciate a handsome man when I saw one.
“Hello,” he said, nodding with a smirk as he walked by.
“Hi,” I responded and stepped to the side.
The young man opened the door and turned around with the knob in his hand. “I’ll talk to you later, Jonathan.”
“All right, Mike,” Jonathan said and waved at him, but he focused his attention squarely on me.
Mike? That wasn’t? Was it? It was. The Golden Boy. The blond hair. On second thought, he wasn’t that good-looking. Average at best, really. Other than my husband, there was only one man who stirred those kinds of feelings inside me. And he wasn’t Mike Mungino or whatever his name was.
I cut right through the pleasantries and said what was on my mind, “So that’s the Golden Boy of Pittsburgh, huh?”
Decked out in a deep purple suit with a dovetail jacket and a black bow tie, Jonathan held his arms out at his sides. Our greeting probably seemed cold, but I didn’t touch vampires in fear that they would try to sap my powers, and Jonathan understood that.
The short vampire said, “Hey, June. How the hell have you been for the past three decades? You act like we saw each other last week. And how the hell do you look younger?”
Jonathan knew me better than most. He could tell when I was getting mad and knew how to change the subject to keep me from blowing up. I went with him for now, but I wanted to know what association he shared with Mike.
“Sorry,” I apologized, and stared at his Guernica painting on the wall again. “I just keep hearing about that kid everywhere I go. By the way, I wanted to thank you for keeping the agency open. I’ll pay you back when I hit up my buried treasures.”
Jonathan waved me off. He probably had m
ore money than he could ever spend. Not only were there priceless paintings hanging on the wall but he had shelves filled with antiques that one would find in a museum. Jonathan picked up a remote control from his desk and pressed a button with his thumb. Heavy metal blasted from speakers hidden in the walls. He pressed the remote again, lowering the volume until it reached a low background level.
I continued in a calmer tone, “As for me, I’d love to say the last thirty years have been great. The first twenty, not so much, but after I escaped the near-death experience at the Red Cavern, I went down south and just lived. For once, I just lived. No worrying about anyone except myself. I didn’t worry about someone sneaking up behind me and sticking an enchanted knife in my back. I just lived.”
“That sounds great. Like a drink?” he offered, raising his eyebrow.
“It was wonderful. And a drink sounds wonderful too. How about a Sazerac? I discovered them down south. Does your crew know how to make one?” I inquired.
Jonathan shrugged his shoulders and took his jacket off, folding it neatly. “We have rye whiskey, bitters, absinthe and simple syrup at our disposal. Unless you substitute bourbon, which we have as well.”
I shook my head. “I prefer the classic.”
“Fair enough. Our bartender is properly trained, so worry not, young lady. He knows to coat the glass with absinthe first. What are you doing back in these parts?” he asked as he laid his jacket over the back of the chair. He sat down at his ornate desk, picked up the corded phone receiver and pressed a few buttons on the base.
I sat down on the chair on my right. “Mainly here to see my father, but I’m too scared to go to his house now that I’m so close.”
Jonathan Rickleshaw told everyone that he was over six hundred years old, but I knew the truth. After some heavy drinking about a hundred years ago, he’d spilled the beans to me and three other people. Even in his inebriated condition, he’d forced us to swear under an oath that we wouldn’t tell anyone his secrets, or we would suffer immediate death.