The Supernaturals

by Gene Gant

  Inky’s condition was the worst. I had to carry him in my arms. He was conscious but unable to move or speak, his body chilled and shivering. I immediately turned and laid him down on the sofa as Mina sank wearily into a chair.

  Draven was sitting on the floor, watching TV, when we arrived. While we were all at Mina’s place earlier, before I got around to repairing the television I damaged, Inky had whipped out his cell phone, gone online, and ordered a replacement for immediate delivery. Then he had sent a text message to the concierge at his building so the delivery crew could get into his condo and set up the new television. They apparently removed the damaged television, which was nowhere in sight. Oh, the perks of being one of the ultrarich.

  Draven was worried and pissed. I could hear it in his voice when he turned from the television, looked over his shoulder, and said, “Why’d you guys leave me…?” His face flashed with alarm at the sight of us. He got quickly to his feet. “What happened?”

  “Get a blanket. We have to get him warm.” I nodded at Inky.

  Draven rushed from the room. I stepped back from the sofa, lay down on my back on the carpet, and closed my eyes. That eased my headache a bit.

  Draven returned moments later. I opened my eyes as he tucked a thick comforter around Inky. “What’s wrong with him?” Draven asked, his worried gaze on Inky’s pale, sweaty face. “He looks so sick.”

  “I’m afraid that’s my doing,” Mina said quietly. “To lure your father in, Gray and I acted as if we were on the roof of that warehouse to make out. My passion soul took over before I could stop it, and it was more than Gray could handle.”

  Draven looked at her, puzzled.

  “She fed so much passion into Inky, he OD’d,” I explained.

  “If your father hadn’t come along and drawn my attention,” Mina added, “Gray might have died.”

  Draven’s confusion gave way to panic. “We have to take him to a hospital.”

  “Not a good idea, man,” I replied. “Inky might look human, but he’s not. What do you think is gonna happen when the doctors discover all the unnatural things about his internal anatomy? And human medical schools don’t teach anything about treating spirits of lust, even ones who’ve gone fleshy.”

  “So what do we do?” Draven asked miserably.

  “We wait,” I replied. “Give him time to recover. His body will eventually filter out the excess passion.”

  Draven lifted Inky’s head, preparing to slide onto the sofa and cradle Inky in his lap.

  “Don’t do that,” I said, more curtly than I should have. “The last thing he needs is to feed on more emotion. It’s best if you just stay away from him for now.”

  Draven scowled at me, a look of rage tinged with disgust. Great. Now I had two Grendel Kids hating me, father and son. “Did you find my mom?” he snarled as he moved away from the sofa.

  “No. Your dad got away before I could finish putting the curse on him. And even if I had, Inky was in no shape to trace your mother down through your dad’s emotions.”

  Draven clenched both fists. “You almost got Gray killed, and you didn’t even catch my dad or find out where he’s got my mom.” He began to tremble from his anger. In another moment, he was going to come at me. I was certain of it. I raised my hand, ready to warp myself away when he made his move.

  “Draven,” Mina said, her voice almost a whisper. “Look at me.”

  He turned to her reluctantly.

  “Be calm. I was the one who hurt Grayson. That was not my intention, and I’m sorry. I’m also sorry we were unable to find your mother. We did our best, but your father is a very powerful Grendelkin. We’re not giving up. We will save your mother. I promise.”

  There was something so soothing about the way Mina spoke, it almost made me drift off to sleep, and her apology had been both heartfelt and reassuring. Too bad it didn’t have any effect on Draven. Her tone and apology rolled off Draven’s rage like water off an umbrella. The kid turned my way and crouched down to pounce.

  Fortunately, he also made eye contact with me. Instantly, his face went slack, and he stood upright again.

  “Inky keeps aspirin in the kitchen, in that little cabinet over the sink,” I said. “Bring me two or three of ’em and a glass of water.”

  “Okay,” Draven replied and immediately went to the kitchen.

  I looked at Mina. She gave me a little smile, closed her eyes, and drew her legs up under her in the chair.

  When Draven returned, I sat up and washed down three aspirin. I looked at Mina again and saw she was asleep. That seemed like a mighty good idea to me. “Draven, time to go beddy-bye.”

  He lay down on the floor next to me and went to sleep at once. I slumped onto my back and conked out almost as fast as Draven had.

  I DREAMED of Angelo.

  He had just turned fifteen when an ancient bloodsucker from Buenos Aires decided he would make a good vampire and turned him. He was an itinerant ranch hand with a sixth-grade education, roving from Arizona to New Mexico to Texas with his parents, the son of an immigrant mestizo woman and a former African slave. He stood a bit shorter than me, his slender body strong from hard work, with smooth brown skin and soulful eyes. Draven was a lot like him, and in those moments when I was honest with myself, I admitted I’d taken Draven under my wing not as a potential resource, but because he reminded me of someone I used to love.

  Angelo didn’t have Draven’s rage. He was a gentle soul, even after he became a monster. He fed on farm animals whenever he could, to avoid drinking human blood, and he never drained any of his victims to the point of death. He hated being a vampire, not just because he didn’t want to kill people, but because it took him away from his mom and dad. They were terrified of him. And he didn’t turn out to be the typical coldhearted bloodsucker, so his maker abandoned him too.

  That’s how I met him. I saw him sitting on the roof of a church one night, just sitting there waiting for the sun to come up and put an end to his loneliness. I guess I was a sucker for lonely guys even then. We became friends and, not long after that, we became boyfriends. The time we had together was great. I loved to make Angelo laugh because it lit up his face and made him look so beautiful. And he was the rock I needed, the one who supported me and gave me hope when I started wondering if life as an eternal slave was really worth living.

  We loved each other, body and soul, completely and without reservation. Adults, whether human or demon, sometimes trivialize the feelings two kids have for each other, especially when it’s two boys. But I know there was genuine love between us.

  That’s what I dreamed of while I slept there on Inky’s floor. I dreamed of how fantastic it felt to be with Angelo, those quiet moments when we lay together in the darkest part of the night. Sometimes we made love. Sometimes we whispered and giggled in each other’s ear. Sometimes we just held on, a tangle of arms and legs, cocooned in blankets on the open prairie beneath the stars.

  People think a vampire’s body is always cold. It’s a logical thing to assume; vampires are undead, after all. The truth is, after vampires feed, their bodies actually heat up as their metabolisms kick into overdrive. Because he refused to kill, Angelo took in three or four small meals through the night instead of one big meal, so he was always warm when he was awake. I dreamed of lying on the grass, spooning Angelo, my arm and leg draped over him, feeling the magnificent heat of his body soak into me and become mine.

  I dreamed, and as it had in the past, holding Angelo mellowed my soul and made me complete.

  “PLEASE LET me go.”

  I woke slowly, reluctantly. My arms were full. The body pressed against me was wonderfully warm, and everything felt so cozy. I wanted to make love. I wrapped my arms tighter around Angelo and pulled him closer.

  “Ahmad.” Mina’s voice was gently chiding.

  That brought me all the way back. I opened my eyes wide and saw it was Draven I was cuddling. My grip on him was so strong he couldn’t peel my arms off him even with his own
considerable muscle power. I was also… ahem… aroused, in more ways than one.

  This was embarrassing as hell.

  “Damn. Sorry.” I raised my right arm.

  Draven scooted away from me and got to his feet. He looked confused and very uncomfortable. Beyond him, Mina was hovering in midair, legs folded lotus-style, looking on in an even, nonjudgmental way. I rolled onto my stomach to conceal my erection.

  “I’m just gonna go get myself together.” I chopped the air over my head with one hand and warped myself into the guest bathroom just down the hall.

  I took a long, cold shower to recover some of my dignity. Then I warped clean clothes from my bedroom—gray cargo shorts, a sleeveless yellow jersey, and white boxers. When I was dressed, I warped my dirty clothes into the laundry basket next to the washer in my little utility room.

  The bathroom window was brightening with morning light. I walked back to the den. Mina was still floating in the air there, hands turned palm upward on either knee. I started to back gently out of the room but stopped when she abruptly opened her eyes and said, “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” I returned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meditation.”

  “You didn’t. I was finished.” Mina unfolded her legs and went from hovering over the floor to standing on it.

  I looked around for Draven, anxious to make my apologies to him, but he was nowhere in sight. Neither was Inky. The sofa was empty; even the comforter that had covered him was gone. “Where’re Draven and Inky?”

  “Gray gave Draven use of the master bathroom,” Mina replied, and then she carefully added, “Gray is showering in the guest bathroom.”

  “Well. Okay.”

  Mina gathered a fresh bath towel and a folded set of girly looking clothes from the coffee table. She hadn’t brought an overnight bag with her, so the clothes had to have come from Inky.

  “Please tell me Inky doesn’t cross-dress,” I said.

  Mina looked at the items in her hands. “I don’t know whether he does or not. And it doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. But if you’re referring to these clothes, Gray said some of his overnight guests occasionally leave things behind. His maid washes the clothes and keeps them ready in case the owner wants them back. Of course, most of these things never get reclaimed.”

  “Of course.” I made a face. “It would freak me the hell out to wear a dead person’s clothes.”

  “They’re just clothes, Ahmad.” Mina walked past me, heading for the bathroom I’d just left.

  Luann arrived while the others were getting dressed. After we exchanged pleasantries, she asked how many guests Inky had. I told her three, and she went off to the kitchen to make breakfast for us.

  I waited in the den, sitting in the easy chair as the rich scent of brewing coffee wafted through the room. Despite the homey aroma, my state of mind was definitely unsettled. I’d made an enemy of a very big, very strong, very mean monster. Malwar knew I was a djinn and a danger to him with my ability to impose curses. From that look he’d given me, it seemed a pretty safe bet that I’d taken priority over Mina on Malwar’s list of souls to kill.

  As I’ve mentioned before, my body’s resilient. I can’t feel the punch of even the strongest human. Gunshot hits harder than human fists, but I only get a sharp prick, like a pinch, from the bullet as it bounces off me. A blow from a superstrong being, like Inky or Draven, won’t take my head off the way it would a human’s, but it hurts like hell. Malwar was way stronger than Inky and Draven. Maybe he couldn’t tear me apart, but he could inflict enough pain to make me gladly welcome death. And after he got through torturing me, he’d find a way to blast me out of existence.

  For me, this was no longer about helping Draven save his mother. It was now very personal. If I didn’t find a way to permanently deal with Malwar, that monster was going to be the death of me.

  Damn. I really needed Angelo now.

  Eleven

  LUANN WAS a fantastic cook. The Spanish omelets and parmesan biscuits she served up were as delicious as anything in the finest restaurants. Still, the only one at the table who seemed to have any appetite was Mina. She ate steadily her breakfast of oatmeal, almond milk, and fresh blueberries while Draven and I sort of nibbled at the food on our plates. I hadn’t known her that long, but the frilly, flowery pink blouse and white Capri pants she wore looked completely alien on her. Inky looked a bit green around the gills, as my last, late, and unlamented master would have put it. You’d have thought he was nursing a lively hangover, the way he massaged his forehead with his fingers while sipping black coffee.

  Draven watched him closely, his eyes full of worry and a bit of pain. It was hard to tell exactly what was going on between the two of them now, but neither appeared happy with the situation.

  Not that I had time to concern myself with their situation. My prospects for a long, healthy life were a lot dimmer this morning, and they’d be even worse come nightfall. Luann was off cleaning the bathrooms, and the tight silence there in the kitchen was more than I could take. I looked at Draven and said, “Just how the hell did you get here from Mina’s anyway?”

  Draven appeared startled, as if he’d forgotten I was there. “I drove.”

  And that startled me. “You can drive?”

  “Yeah. My mom taught me when I was twelve.”

  “And you drove what? Inky’s Jaguar?”

  “You left the keys behind,” Draven said. He looked a bit angry now. “You guys left me behind too. I got worried and couldn’t just sit around. I sort of hoped you’d be here.”

  “How the hell did you get past the doorman and the concierge? The only way they let visitors up is when a resident gives the okay.”

  “I climbed the wall to the deck.” He turned back to Inky, looking worried again. “I tore off a screen and broke the lock on one of the windows to get in. Sorry.”

  Inky vaguely waved a hand. “Don’t sweat it. Luann will get somebody out to make repairs.”

  Draven was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a plaid short-sleeved shirt he’d borrowed from Inky. The clothes were about one size too big for him, which made him look stylish and waifish at the same time. He reached across the table and laid his hand over Inky’s wrist. “Gray, are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” Inky stood up awkwardly, breaking the contact with Draven, and walked over to the counter, where he poured more coffee into his mug. “I was out of my head last night,” he said to no one in particular. “Somebody want to fill me in on what happened with Malwar?”

  Mina and I exchanged brief looks. Then she turned to Inky. “Grayson, I’m sorry for what my passion soul did to you. It wasn’t my intention to—”

  Inky stopped her with a raised hand. “That doesn’t matter. Just tell me what happened.” He leaned back against the counter.

  “Malwar came after me,” Mina said, “and I distracted him long enough for Ahmad to start laying the curse.”

  “But he fought me off before I could finish,” I said, jumping in. “He wasn’t happy with what I did. He’s gonna come after me now.”

  “Two days,” Draven groaned. Fear lit up his eyes. “Two days and my mom’s dead.”

  “That’s not gonna happen,” Inky said. “I promise you it won’t.”

  “But how do we stop it? How do we get my mom back?”

  “We have two options,” Mina replied calmly. “Malwar knows Ahmad is a danger and will come after him. We can either wait for Malwar to come for Ahmad, or we go after him now. Both Ahmad and I had confrontations with Malwar last night. Gray can track him through us, right to wherever he is.” She raised a finger, stopping the rest of us before we could say anything. “But the downside to our going after him is that we’ll be on his turf. And he’ll know the minute we’re there. He’ll have the advantage.”

  Inky gave Draven another look and said, “We’re not waiting. But we’ve got to have a plan.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, and Mina nodded. “To come up with a
plan of attack, though, I need to know where Malwar is.”

  “Not a problem. Mina, Ahmad, you guys come here.” Inky put down his mug, stepped away from the counter, and instantly wobbled, obviously dizzy. Draven reached instinctively for him, but Inky staggered forward, grabbed the back of the chair with one hand, and waved him away. Holding on to the chair, Inky steadied himself.

  “Are you okay?” Draven asked, his voice weighted with concern.

  Eyes closed, Inky nodded. A moment later, he opened his eyes. He let go of the chair and backed carefully away to the middle of the kitchen. He motioned for Mina and me.

  The two of us got up and walked over to him. Inky put one hand on my shoulder and the other on Mina’s and closed his eyes again. An emotional trail, like a scent trail, degraded over time, and it had been hours since Mina and I had our fight with Malwar. Malwar’s hatred and rage must have been powerful last night, because Inky seemed to pick up a trail instantly. He dug his fingers into Mina’s and my shoulders. He raised his head, his nose to the air. He turned, opening his eyes, and looked toward the east.

  “Malwar’s out there, on the lake,” Inky said.

  I frowned, puzzled. “What, he’s on a boat?”

  “No. He’s on an island.”

  My frown got deeper. “There aren’t any islands in the lake anywhere near Chicago. Well, there’s Northerly, but that’s a tourist attraction, so I doubt Malwar would—”

  “He’s on an island,” Inky repeated firmly. He let Mina and me go and backed away a step. “It’s northeast of where we are now, about fifty miles out. It’s… hidden, somehow.”

  At that, Mina and I both looked in the same direction as Inky. I opened my MagicVision. Instantly, I saw the magical veil, far out on the water, a ward designed to deflect both physical sight and intrusion. A boat that moved toward the ward would be forced around it in a motion that neither the craft’s occupants nor navigational instruments could detect. All the people on the boat would see was open water. Mina sensed the veil too. I could tell from the way her eyebrows went up.