by J. P. Rice
I tried to open the door to the Not Normal Agency but it was stuck. As I looked around the frame, I saw that the door had been sealed with ice. This had all the makings of an Ice Heart attack, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous.
I took off my glove and called fire to my fingers. When my hands reached a glowing orange, I traced around the door, melting the ice. The burning sun reflected off the ice and snow and blurred my vision as I tried to keep my hand steady.
A few minutes later, I twisted the knob, pushed against the door and heard the ice cracking. Using my shoulder, I rammed into the door, finally busting it open. A foul gamey funk rushed into my nostrils as I entered the office. Never a good sign. Despite the bitter chill, I left the door open to counter the stink.
The inside of the office was a tundra with some of the equipment covered in ice. I didn’t see Randall or Lauren anywhere until I noticed a shoe poking out from behind Lauren’s desk. I darted over and rounded the corner of the desk. Both of my employees were dead on the floor.
Feeling numb, I spun in a circle. This was the work of Ice Heart. I’d finally found out his entire story.
Frank Killibrew. A nasty human being if there ever was one. He’d made his money as a slumlord for a bunch of rundown apartment buildings. He’d ripped off the poor every chance he’d gotten. To make matters worse, he would flaunt his riches in front of the poor. A real-life Scrooge.
He took pleasure in watching people starve during the Great Depression, knowing he could save them if he’d just spared a few pennies here and there. Instead, he became so monstrous and inhuman that his heart froze, giving him instant immortality.
The frost had spread from his heart to the rest of his body, morphing into a glacial tower of power with magical skills. He grew cocky over time and enjoyed playing a squeaky flute that sounded terrible and annoyed the townspeople. One day, fueled by his hubris, he’d held up the flute and said, “If anyone can take this flute from me, I will bow to that person’s every command.”
One night, a succubus by the name of Dahlia had showed up on his front porch. She seduced Frank, and while he slept like a baby post coitus, she lifted his flute and took it back to the demons she served in the Red Cavern.
She’d given the flute to Bruceras. However, a frozen spirit didn’t mesh well with a group that hated the cold, thus its use was limited. The current situation in Pittsburgh presented the perfect opportunity to unleash the beast. All the demons had to do was blow into the flute, and a murderous ice monster would carry out their devious wishes.
This couldn’t have been random. Lauren and Randall were targeted because of their association to me. Despite the frozen conditions, a fire raged inside me. I looked around the room and could see the struggle as if it was happening in front of me.
Ice Heart busted in through the front door and Randall jumped up to protect Lauren. Ice Heart backhanded him aside and he crashed into the bookshelf against the wall. Old leather-bound works were strewn about the floor, their yellowing pages frozen to the floor. The light mustiness provided short relief from the decomposing bodies. It was strange. The temperature should have slowed rigor mortis and the resulting putrefaction.
I used the sleeve of my jacket to cover my mouth and nose as I assessed the incident. Ice Heart knocked Randall aside and went after Lauren, who tried to hide behind her desk. I walked toward her body and noticed three deep scrapes on the corner of the desktop that weren’t there on my last visit.
I kneeled down and looked at her left hand. The fingernails from her index, middle and ring finger were broken off, a clear sign of a struggle. It appeared that Ice Heart had dragged her back into the open area. Her right orbital had been shattered by what had to have been a thunderous punch.
Then Randall made it to his feet and rushed the monster, the brave hero. I walked over to his body and noticed the broken blood vessels and bruising around his neck. Ice Heart used his oversized hands to choke my trusty employee out. Tossing the dead body of Randall aside, the predator stalked his prey in the form of Lauren crawling away from him.
A bruised knuckle imprint on her forehead told the story. That type of head trauma could kill someone. Then I thought about the repeated punches he had thrown, and my head started to spin. I could see her bawling and begging for the animal to stop, wondering why he’d come after her.
And then just like that. In the blink of an eye. It was over. Her life was gone. Her family would be devastated. Her community would be crushed. I grew dizzy and nauseated, grabbing onto the desk to support my balance.
The devils of the Red Cavern knew I was alive, and they decided to send a message. I received it loud and clear and had a return message of my own. The sound of breaking glass behind me cause me to whirl around, ready for action. No one was around, and I noticed that a picture had fallen from Randall’s desk.
I picked it up and looked at it as tears welled in my eyes. It was the picture of Randall at the beach with his family. I felt like someone was bashing my heart with a baseball bat.
Never the best at delivering bad news, I accepted the responsibility to notify their families, rather than have them hear it from the authorities. I didn’t know why, but I thought it would be better that way. They’d died in the line of duty. Serving me. Something I would never forget. And something I’d never forgive myself for.
Why hadn’t the icy son of a bitch come after me? No, he went after two humans who didn’t know a lick of magic. From the demon who ordered the hit to the immortal monster who carried it out, it was a cowardly act. If they weren’t going to come after me, maybe I should head straight into the fire and go after them.
Lauren and Randall had never hurt anyone. In fact, they’d helped me out countless times over the years.
I called the authorities to take care of the bodies. Choking down my emotions, I left the agency as the service vehicles arrived and notified the authorities that I would alert the families.
I didn’t want to go to the Red Cavern and chase after the Dagda’s Harp. I had to now. My emotions were still raw from my experiences in the demon underworld. I didn’t want to face the trauma again. It had almost killed me the first time.
I thought about Alexis. Then about Randall and Lauren and the children and grandchildren they left behind. How many more children would end up parentless if I didn’t go? They would face a life of trauma and possibly end up old and bitter like me. Nobody wanted that. Someone had to put a stop to it.
As it dawned on me that this trip was unavoidable, I thought about how I could get in. Last time, I’d infiltrated a cult-like group that was interested in black magic and had connections with demons. A Chieftain from the Red Cavern had come to the group and selected recruits for the underworld. He had picked me, and it had changed the trajectory of my life.
My husband never returning and my stay in the Red Cavern were the two most detrimental and influential experiences in my life. It had turned me into the crazy bitch that you saw now. My soul was beaten, battered, bruised and bloody. But not broken. Never broken.
My mind shifted to how I could get inside the underworld. Jonathan had told me that Mike Merlino had broken in to steal an enchanted knife and ended up killing the Jersey Devil. I needed to be much subtler than that to get the Dagda’s Harp.
I preferred the ‘kick in the door, wavin’ the 44’ method, but this mission would require finesse and patience. Not exactly my specialties. Mike could have the inside track on other ways to gain entry to the Red Cavern.
Scrolling through my phone, I looked for Mike Merlino, who was listed under Peach Fuzz.
Chapter 5
Freezing to death.
In dangerously low temperatures your body prioritized blood flow to the organs. This pulled blood from the surface of the body and extremities, making a person even colder. The heart and lungs accelerated in response.
As the blood concentrated on your organs, your skin started to lose color. Frostbite could occur in freezing temperatures in five
to ten minutes resulting in the urge to pee and movement being restricted. Confusion sets in and a mental fog is cast over your brain.
Next, you would lose feeling in your extremities and they could turn blue or black. Your increased heart rate and breathing would return to normal before slowing down to dangerous levels. As the oxygen slowed to your brain, you would experience hallucinations. Enjoy that part because the end is near.
A sudden dilation of your blood vessels near the skin could make you feel hot and cause you to strip off your clothes in a phenomenon known as paradoxical undressing. Other victims had been known to burrow into the snow as the most primitive part of your brain took over.
Then you lost consciousness and your organs shut down. And obviously, that was all she wrote. Most people never thought about freezing to death for a single second of their entire life. But for the denizens of my city, the prospect was real. If you lived in a rural area and your heat failed, you were in severe trouble.
A spirited debate had raged over the years whether freezing to death was painful or not. Some experts posited that it was a peaceful death. I wasn’t sure who was right, but I didn’t want the citizens of Pittsburgh to find out.
I had to protect them from certain death. That was why I’d called Mike Merlino over to my house.
“Sounded like you needed something on the phone. Little warm in here,” Mike said and removed his heavy winter coat. He hung it over the back of a chair at my kitchen table and sat down.
I set down the can of Coke that he’d requested and slid into the chair across from him. “Yeah, I might need a little help getting into the Red Cavern.”
“I’ll help as much as I can. This shit is killing people now,” he said, staring out my kitchen window at the permafrost known as Pittsburgh. “I can’t believe how close I was to getting that Harp. It seems like ten years ago now.”
“Did you just bust in through a portal?” I asked, as he cracked open his beverage.
“Yeah, there’s one out near the mountains. It takes you to a stone area with meeting rooms.” He dented the can near the mouthpiece and took a drink.
“Did you see any devils there?” I asked, and Mike nodded in response.
He swallowed the mouthful of liquid and unfastened the top two buttons on his blue dress shirt. “Yep. Two of them. Montidore and Bruceras.”
Bruceras was the illustrious King Bres, the Fomorian. I didn’t know Montidore’s true identity.
“That won’t work then. Last time I went in through a black magic cult that had connections to the Red Cavern. Does anything like that still exist?” I asked and walked over to the thermostat.
Mike played with the tab on the can. “I’ve heard rumors about it. I can ask Blodeuwedd about it.”
I turned down the heat a touch. “Why would you ask her?”
I sat back down, and Mike said, “As an owl shifter, she’s organized all the birds of Pittsburgh and its surroundings to gather information. She is my eyes in the sky. Surprisingly, she still has a winter fleet surveying Pittsburgh.”
“Must be fookin’ nice,” I said under my breath.
“What?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Nothing.” I couldn’t believe they had given this little twit divine resources on top of a friggin’ guardian angel. He was the chosen one and they were protecting him as such. “Just meant it sounds nice to have a resource like that in the back pocket.”
“No doubt. My instrument for contacting her is at my house, so I’ll do that later.” He took another swig of Coke and scratched his head.
“What do you think about going?” I asked bluntly. If he was the chosen one, taking him could keep me safe.
“If you’re going to crash the scene and try to take it by force, I’m in. Problem is they’ve tightened up security at that portal where I entered on earth and the entrance of the underworld,” he explained. He seemed to have an unquenchable appetite for destruction. I appreciated that.
I joked, “Well, you just ruined it for everyone, haven’t you?”
He smirked and his sapphire eyes reminded me of my father. Bright and sparkling and ready to conquer the world. He lowered his head and said, “Sorry about that. You know how it is when your life is on the line.”
“Indeed,” I agreed. “What about joining the magic cult with me?”
“I can’t.”
“Pussy,” I coughed.
“What?” he asked as his smirk melted downward.
“Nothing. I was just yawning,” I said, stretching out my arms for added effect. “Why can’t you go?”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Because they all know who I am and what I look like.”
“That’s why you shapeshift, you stupid ass.” I shook my head. For a sharp young wizard, he could also act like a stupid little brother.
Mike looked down and a crimson tint covered his cheeks, breaking through the blond peach fuzz. “I can’t shapeshift.”
“Really?” I couldn’t believe the Golden Boy lacked that ability. “That surprises me.”
“It’s the truth,” he mumbled and looked away.
“No. I wasn’t calling you a liar. Then I guess I’m going alone. I’ve done it before,” I said and stopped. I didn’t remember how much I’d told Mike about my past. One of the many problems of lying.
It worried me that a spark of recognition ran through his eyes. “I have someone you need to meet.”
“Who?” I asked, genuinely intrigued. Those weren’t the words I had expected.
“We’ll talk about that later. You can shapeshift and stay that way for days at a time?” he asked.
“Yes. One of the skills I obtained from a glamor witch, which sounds oxymoronic.” Oh, shit. I had said too much. “I mean, she taught me how to set the spell, that is.”
Mike’s eyes widened with excitement. “Do you think you could teach it to me?”
Son of a bitch. He’d called out my bullshitting. Did he know? I said, “I don’t really remember it all now since I absorbed it a long time ago. It just comes with a little recall these days. Sorry.”
Unfortunately for him, I was much more adept at taking magic than giving magic.
Mike cracked his knuckles. “I’ll do my best up here. I’ve got Blodeuwedd on the lookout for the demons bringing the Harp to Pittsburgh and Ice Heart. They have to keep playing the Harp to keep extending winter. I don’t know how often though. It’s not like Punxsutawney Phil, who makes his annual appearance.”
“I don’t know how long it lasts either. I’d ask the Dagda, but I’m not on his good side right now. Not yet, at least,” I lied.
He replied, “I know he asked you to find his Harp. You bring that to him, I’m sure he’ll hold up his end of the bargain.”
How did this kid know about my deal? That was another danger of lying. Getting caught. “You’re not mad he didn’t ask you?”
He shook his head and his shaggy blond hair swung from side to side. “Nope. Not at all. I told you. I want to take a step back. I won’t shy away from it, but I was told you can handle yourself just fine. And I’ll help you with anything you need.”
My thoughts on Mike were like a pendulum. One second, I hated his guts and wanted to smash his face in with a brick, and the next, I wanted to give him a big hug and kiss on the cheek. He had a pure spirit and noble intentions, something I wasn’t used to dealing with.
“You need to keep an eye out for Ice Heart while you’re up here,” I told him. “When I get to the Red Cavern—if I get to the Red Cavern—I’ll try to find Ice Heart’s flute. Then maybe I can smuggle it out of there and get it in your hands.”
“What exactly would that accomplish?” he asked, tapping the side of the Coke can.
“Basically, Ice Heart serves the wishes of whoever has the flute. So you could use it to summon him and tell him to kill himself. And he would have to follow your order.”
“How would I keep in contact with you?” he asked, which was a damn good question.
&
nbsp; Hmmm. Oh, I got it. “We’ll go through the Morrigan. I have a special way of contacting her. She can relay messages for us.”
“Deal.” He gave me a thumbs up. “Made any progress on the wolf and vampire bullshit?”
Fook. I’d almost forgotten about that. “No. But thank you. That reminds me I need to call Caesar today. He’s been avoiding my calls. On the other hand, Jonathan won’t stop calling me about the duel. He wants it to go down yesterday. And I thought setting up the duel would be easy.”
“Nothing is easy in this game.” Mike stood up and shook his empty Coke can. “You recycle?”
“Just leave it on the table,” I said, and thumbed for him to sit back down.
As soon as his backside hit the seat, he asked, “Is Octavius stalling or are the other wolves stalling for Octavius?”
Could be either. “Never thought of that. He agreed to it immediately when Caesar asked him about it. Now, I can’t get ahold of him to save my ass. If he doesn’t answer in the next few days, I’ll take a trip to their house.”
“You sure?” he asked and shot me a leery look. “You don’t exactly have a great track record out there.”
“Oh, Mike.” I laughed and leaned forward on the table. “The naivety of a mortal. If you are in this business long enough, every person will become your enemy at some point. Beings you’ve tried to kill will rush to your defense one day. Why? We’re all free agents. Entities of convenience.”
He closed one eye. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I hated to shatter his noble dreams, but someone had to tell him. “Your friends. They know your secrets. Bob Marley said it best. They can hurt you much worse than your enemies. They stab from behind as they lurk in the shadows. You know your enemies, which makes it hard for them to sneak up on you. There will be a time when it’s convenient for you to spare an enemy’s life, only because it will help you in the long run.”
The Morrigan could teach a class on why one should avoid friendships.
“Already been there,” Mike revealed.