by Simon Hawke
Talon smiled. “I know you now. And you belong to me.”
He made a languid pass with his right hand and Rafe’s body collapsed to the floor of the cavern as the spell binding him to the rock was canceled. He fell in a trembling heap, unable to move.
“Rest,” said Talon. “When you awake, you will be strong again, stronger than you ever were before, stronger than you ever thought you could be. But never again strong enough to defy me. Wherever you go, whatever you do, a part of me shall be there with you, close to the one thing you had buried and kept hidden for so long. I am your fear now, Rafe. I can always bring it out and show it to you. Always. But you will find that is only a small price to pay for what I shall make of you.”
He turned and left the big black man lying there, looking like a very large, discarded rag doll. There had never been any question in Talon’s mind that he would prevail. No human had ever successfully resisted him. But none had ever put up so hard a struggle. Now it was over. Talon felt, at the same time, both smugly satisfied and strangely disappointed.
Maria didn’t like Washington, D. C. It was cooler than Tucson, but it was much more humid, which made the heat of late summer feel sticky and unpleasant. She missed the comfortable dryness of southern Arizona and the familiar desert landscape. In the West, they had a saying that the distance got into your eye. She missed the open spaces, the tranquil vistas of the Sonora Desert where one could see for miles. Even the sky looked different here. The sunsets merely marked the end of day in a perfectly mundane and unremarkable manner, nothing like the spectacular washes of red, purple, pink, and orange that flooded the Arizona sky at twilight.
Maria had never been to the East Coast before. She had never even been out of Tucson before, except for that one trip to Vegas before she had met Joey. She had once entertained a dream of going to Vegas and making some big money, but she had quickly realized that the girls in Vegas were way out of her league. She just could not compete. She had returned to Tucson, where her dreams, such as they were, became anesthetized with drugs and she had settled into a comfortable and familiar, if slowly life-destroying, routine. Now, however, things were different.
The power had changed her. Her skin, which had never been very good to begin with and had been even further ravaged by her drug use, was now clear and glowed with vibrant health. Her dark eyes were bright and sparkling and her muscle tone had improved significantly. Her scars were gone and her black hair was long and lustrous, not limp and dried out from too much hair spray and too poor a diet. As a young girl, she had been pretty, but her prettiness had gradually faded after she started working the streets, replaced by a hard and trashy, vulgar sort of sex appeal that had still attracted a certain type of man, even though her looks continued to decay as her drug use had increased and her self-esteem was worn away. Now she looked like an entirely different person.
If Joey Medina could have seen her now, he wouldn’t even have tried to make a move, because he would have thought that she was unattainable for someone in his station.
She was not only beautiful now, but she looked proud and classy and her new wardrobe reflected her image, one carefully chosen for her by Talon before he had sent her out to take the plane for Washington.
She had wanted to pick out her own clothes, but Talon vetoed all her choices as being crude and tasteless. And now, after she had learned a few things about how to act and dress, she knew he had been right. Before, even when she had money to spend on clothes instead of drugs, she had dressed like a cheap hooker. Now she thought she looked like a lady. Her dress was elegant, simple, and understated, but it flattered her figure, hugging her lush curves, and displayed an ample amount of leg without seeming too obvious. Her silk stockings made her legs look even better than they were, and they had always been her best feature. And her matching pumps had heels that were just high enough to give a flattering look without saying “come and get me. “ She noticed a lot of male heads turn in her direction when she walked into the restaurant and sat down at the bar.
The bartender glanced at her appreciatively as he took her order and treated her with a deference she liked. Her new sense of power gave her poise and confidence. It wasn’t long before a man approached her. A good-looking man, well-dressed and obviously successful. He smiled warmly as he sat down next to her.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said. “New in town?”
She smiled, friendly, but just short of inviting, and nodded.
“You have the look,” he said, smiling again. “A little overwhelmed. I felt like that when I first moved here. Are you a student?”
She shook her head. “Receptionist,” she said. “Well, as soon as I can find a job, that is.”
“Been going out on interviews?”
She nodded once again, then sighed. “Yes, but nothing definite so far.”
He nodded sympathetically. “This can be a tough town to get work in if you don’t have connections.”
“Yes, that’s what I hear,” she replied. She glanced at her watch. “I was actually supposed to meet someone here who said he might know of an opening, but he’s late and I’m beginning to think he’s not going to show up.”
“I find it hard to believe that someone would stand you up,” the man said.
“That’s kind of you to say.”
“My name’s Bill Robinson. May I buy you a drink?”
He offered his hand and she took it, holding it a second longer than necessary. “Maria Santoro,” she said, improvising a new last name on the spot. “Thanks, I’d like that. It’s been a long day of pounding the pavement. I’m thirsty and my feet are killing me.”
Robinson signaled the bartender, who responded promptly. “You know,” said Robinson, “I haven’t had dinner yet and it’s not much fun to eat alone. I don’t mean to be too forward or anything, but would you like to join me? I’d be grateful for the company. And who knows, maybe we could brainstorm a little over food and figure out if I know anyone who might have a job for you. I’ve got a few connections in this town. I’m sure we could probably come up with something.”
“That’s very nice of you. I appreciate that. I’d love to.”
After dinner, they lingered over drinks and then went back to his apartment. By then she had found out quite a lot about him. He was a businessman, single, upwardly mobile and on the fast track. She found out who he knew, which friends of his were influential, which ones were in business, which ones in politics. It was ridiculously easy. She didn’t even have to say much, just act as if she found everything he said utterly fascinating. He kept up a steady stream of conversation, obviously trying to impress her. He tried, unsuccesssfully, to hide his eagerness when she agreed to go back with him to his apartment. But once they were inside, he became eagerness personified and was all over her.
Five minutes later, he was dead. And Maria felt her power grow.
They had been in Tucson for over a week and Makepeace was growing restive. They took a comfortable suite at a hotel near the airport, not one of the best hotels in town, but well in the upper midrange, and the official cover story they agreed upon was that they were vacationing university professors.
“In your case, it’s more or less the truth, isn’t it?” Simko said when he suggested it.
“I have no objection,” Makepeace replied, “but I hardly see the point. Why should we be so clandestine about this? All we need do is identify ourselves to the local authorities and we’ll be able to get whatever cooperation we require.”
“You’ve been away from this stuff for a while, Sebastian,” Simko replied. “No offense, old friend, but you’re not thinking it through. If we really do have a fire out here, how do we know none of the local officials are involved? It’s happened before.”
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true,” Makepeace admitted. “But why do we even need to involve ourselves with the authorities here? It should be a simple matter to go out to the enclave and look around. After all, it’s supposed to be
open to the public, more or less. They schedule tours and have visiting hours, don’t they?”
“No point in doing that until we’ve done our homework,” Simko said. “We don’t want to take any unnecessary chances, do we?”
Makepeace made a face. “No, you’re right, of course. I’m not thinking. I haven’t done this sort of thing in a long time, you know. For that matter, neither have you.”
“All the more reason not to go jumping into anything,” said Simko. “The deal is, we don’t trust anybody until we know we can. We stay away from the local authorities completely for the time being. The enclave is politically connected in this town. Even if nobody’s been suborned by magic, money always talks and chances are someone will drop a dime on us and let them know a couple of federal agents are in town asking around. Besides, we probably wouldn’t get much more from the local bureaucrats than we’ve already got through the database. We already know everything there is to know about the enclave, officially. It’s what the bureaucrats don’t know that we’re interested in.”
“So what’s the plan?” asked Makepeace.
“Well, they’re running a rehab center up there, with court referral, right? So let’s find out what the people on the street have to say about it. We already know what the bureaucrats think. Let’s see what the junkies and the hookers have to say.”
“What makes you think they’ll talk to us?”
“We’ll spread around some money. Neither one of us looks like a cop and for a few bills, we’ll have no problem getting folks to talk to us. You’re a worried father, desperate to find his little girl who ran away from home after she fell in with some fast company, and I’m the private eye you hired to help you find her. We’re from New York City, where you’re a successful gallery owner. Anybody can bullshit about art and the kind of people we’ll be talking to won’t know the difference, anyway. So we’re looking for some spoiled little rich girl who got in over her head after she got involved with drugs. Just follow my lead and you’ll do fine.”
“What is my errant daughter’s name?” asked Makepeace.
“I don’t know. Pick one.”
“Heather. I’ve always liked the name Heather.”
“Okay. She’s Heather Makepeace. Might as well use our real names. No reason not to and it’ll make things easier.”
“How old is little Heather?”
Simko shrugged. “Let’s say she’s sixteen. That way, anyone who would have been involved with her was playing around with jailbait and that might make some folks inclined to be cooperative.”
“What does she look like?” Makepeace asked. “Shouldn’t we have a photograph to show?”
“We’ll get one. We’ll just go down to the mall and pick up a cheap camera, then pay some kid a few bucks to get her picture taken. Tell her we’re just testing out the camera. Main thing is to see what kind of scuttlebutt we can pick up about this rehab place. Though if you ask me, I think it’s probably a false alarm.”
“If it is, then it’s all the more reason to check it out quickly and get back, in case there’s a real one,” said Makepeace.
“You know, for someone who’s been around as long as you have, you ought to have more patience. Let’s do this thing right, by the numbers. That way there’s less of a chance of screwing up.”
For the next week, they canvassed the streets, checking out the transient neighborhoods and the youth hangouts, flashing a photograph of a girl whose picture they had taken at the mall. Only once did someone seem to recognize the picture, and that was when a young girl in a coffeehouse thought it looked just like a friend of hers from school, but other than remarking on the strong resemblance, she had nothing of interest to offer. However, on the pretext of asking about drug rehabilitation centers the fictional Heather Makepeace might have been sent to, they did manage to pick up some information from several people who had heard about the enclave or known people who had gone there.
The general feeling on the street was that the place was some kind of religious cult, because people who had gone there never again went back to their old haunts or their old friends. They either got religion and stayed there or else they changed their lives around completely and usually left town. By the end of the week, the two men actually managed to find someone who knew someone who had been sent there by the court and still resided in Tucson. When they tracked her down, they found the girl was living with her parents, who had nothing but praise for Brother Talon, who apparently ran the center.
The girl in question closely fit the profile they had designed for the fictional Heather. She was from a well-to-do family where both parents had careers that left them little time to spend with their children. Jane, the girl in question, was introduced to them and she seemed extremely well-mannered, happy, and well-adjusted. When Simko commented on that as they were leaving, her mother merely shook her head.
“It’s amazing. You should have seen her before,” she said. “We simply didn’t know what to do with her. Janey was completely out of control. She was running around with a really bad crowd, getting involved with older boys who took advantage of her, using drugs, getting into fights… We tried everything and nothing seemed to work. She dressed like something from a horror movie, was verbally and physically abusive to us both, and when we threatened to send her away to a boarding school in Prescott, she ran away from home and was missing for over a month. We were simply frantic with worry. For all we knew, she could have been dead, so it was actually a relief when we learned she had been arrested for possession.”
“And the court sent her to the rehab center at Dragon Peak?” said Simko.
“We hired a good lawyer and it was her first serious offense, so it was made part of a plea bargain. Since she’s a minor, her record would be sealed, and if she straightened out, it would eventually be expunged. To be honest, we didn’t hold out much hope, but they worked miracles up at that clinic. You see what Janey’s like now. She’s clean, she’s happy, she’s like a completely different person, a normal little girl who goes to school and gets good grades and even attends church regularly. Every day, I thank God for Brother Talon.”
“That’s an unusual name,” said Simko. “Sounds Native American or something. What sort of man is he? Have you met him?”
“Only briefly, when we went to pick her up. I’m sure he’s not an Indian, though. He’s got rather dark skin, but I think it’s just a deep tan. He has red hair and most Indians are dark-haired. And he has the most incredible eyes. They’re magnetic, a really bright emerald green. He’s really quite handsome and he’s got a lot of charisma. I can see why he’s so successful with the troubled young people they send him. He looks very young himself, not like a clergyman at all. More like a rock star with that long hair of his. He has a real presence, one of those people who just seem naturally compelling. You can tell he’s an intensely spiritual man.”
“Sounds like a man I’d like to meet,” said Simko. “Maybe he’s heard something about Heather. We know she came to Tucson and she’s had some trouble with drugs, too. We’re just looking for any leads we can find.”
“I really hope you find your daughter,” the woman said to Makepeace sincerely. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more help.”
“Well, we appreciate your time, just the same,” said Makepeace. “Thank you very much.”
“Good luck,” the woman said. “My prayers are with you.”
As they were heading back to their rental car, Makepeace turned to Simko. “Red hair, dark skin, bright green eyes, a strong presence… That describes a Dark One to a T.”
“Maybe. Or it could be a coincidence,” said Simko with a shrug. “Could be he’s just Irish. We need to be sure before we go sending up the balloon.”
“Victor… you’re not entertaining thoughts of handling this yourself, are you?”
“I must admit it crossed my mind,” Simko replied. “But advancing age tends to give one a sense of self-preservation. I’ve got no intention of playing hero
on this one, Sebastian. But at the same time, I don’t want to fuck up. And there’s a few things about this situation that just don’t seem to fit. If Talon really is a necromancer, then where’s the evidence of necromancy? There just isn’t any.”
“There are those men who’ve disappeared.”
“Yeah, but we don’t know for sure they’re dead. No corpus delicti. From everything we’ve learned so far, this place sounds like exactly what it appears to be on the surface, a rehab center that functions from a strong spiritual basis, sort of like AA. A little cultish, maybe, but they do seem to turn people around. Cults generally take people in, but they don’t cut them loose.”
“Maybe he’s purposely cut some people loose, as you put it, just to keep up appearances,” Makepeace suggested as they got into their car. “If no one ever came back from the enclave, it would certainly look suspicious.”
“That’s a good point, but from everything you’ve told me, these necromancers need to feed their power regularly and they’ve got pretty big appetites. But we don’t have a single documented instance of murder in this town involving magic. Just a few small-time ex-cons who disappeared after boosting a van. Sounds to me like nothing more than a drug deal that went bad. Chances are their bodies will turn up in the desert somewhere, with nothing more exotic than bullet holes in them.”
“So what’s our next step?” Makepeace asked.
“I think it’s time to check out Dragon Peak,” said Simko as he drove. “But first I’m dropping you off at the hotel.”
“What do you mean? I’m going with you.”
Simko shook his head. “Not this time. I think we’re barking up the wrong tree, but just in case we’re not, I don’t want to take any chances that this guy Talon can make you as an immortal. Or an agent. I’m going to go up there myself, using the Heather cover story, and see what I can learn. But personally, I think this was a wasted trip.”