by R. R. Virdi
She traced a finger over a certain image. The one depicting her and Daniel on a street. The now-recognizable and unmistakable figure of Caroline lurked in the background. A menacing bat-like figure hung above the three of them.
My eyes hovered on the image as I continued flipping.
“Stop!” Ortiz’s gaze narrowed on my journal.
I froze, following her gaze. A crude drawing filled the page. It was an image of something halfway between a man and an oversized bat. Rudimentary doodles from German fairy tales sat below.
“Vincent, what the hell is that?”
I sucked in a breath. “A Faust.”
Ortiz stared at me, waiting for a clearer answer.
“A devil.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Devil?” Ortiz’s eyes widened, and I could imagine her pulse beating in her throat.
I knew where she was going with the idea. I waved a hand, hoping to pull her attention away from her train of thought. “Not, The Devil, a devil. As far as I know, that guy doesn’t exist.”
Ortiz arched a brow before her gaze fell to the cross hanging from her neck.
I shrugged. “Hey, in all my years of work, I haven’t found a shred of proof that ol’ horns and brimstone is lurking around.”
“And what about these things—Fausts—what do I need to know?”
My head tilted to the side. I didn’t know what to tell her, but the truth seemed like a good idea.
“Honestly, I don’t know where to start.” I scooped up my journal, flashing the pages in front her. “Look at my notes.”
Her lips curled before forming a frown. “There’s not much.”
I shook my head. “No, not much at all. There’s a reason for that.”
Her frown deepened. “I’m not going to like this reason, am I?”
“No. The thing is, I didn’t believe in them until now. I mean I’ve only heard stories—scraps of lore that I’ve cobbled together, you know? Bits and pieces here and there. And those never really add up to anything concrete.”
“Rumors, you mean.”
I nodded.
“Well, it looks like they’re true. So, we need to figure out as much as we can fast. Start talking.”
I sighed, racking my brain for where to begin. “They’re devils—demons in the sense of what they are. At least that’s what the scattered history of them suggests.”
Ortiz rubbed a thumb and forefinger against her cross.
I pretended I hadn’t seen it, looking back to my journal instead. “How much do you know about the legend of Faust?”
“I’ve heard of the Faustian bargain, but that’s about it.” She leaned back, resting against one of the armrests of the couch.
“Right. General rundown of the story goes like this.” I cleared my throat and recounted the retellings of the myth best I could. “Man named Faust—highly successful, and intelligent—discontent with his life. He wants more.”
Ortiz gave me a look. “That’s how it always starts, isn’t it?” There was an undertone to it like there was more to the statement.
I caught the look and tried to shy away. “You mean like our first case?”
Her lips pressed together as her face and body tightened. “Yes.”
“Yeah. Something about us people, I guess. Some things are never enough. Faust certainly thought so. The guy decides to make a pact with the Devil.”
Ortiz’s eyes narrowed, giving me a look that said, “I told you so.”
I waved it off. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what’s he got to offer that’ll please the Devil? His soul.” The words fell with iron weight.
Silence followed.
Ortiz’s hand tightened around the cross, letting go almost as quick. “I didn’t know you could trade something like that.”
I shrugged and gestured to myself. “Me neither, until now. How do you think I feel?”
“Good point.” She rolled a hand in a lazy wave, motioning for me to continue.
“Right. The tale goes on to say that he traded his soul for unlimited knowledge and pleasure. Not a bad bargain, especially if you’re the kind of person who doesn’t believe in the soul. There’s a problem with the story though.”
Ortiz eyed me, waiting in silence for the answer.
“Like every story in the mortal world, it’s been told over and over, twisted each time.”
“You’re saying it’s wrong? Or part of it is?”
“Yes. Way I’ve heard it a few times through sources and cases I’ve worked is like this: Faust wasn’t the name of the man. That was something that happened after the telling of the original tale. It was spun enough to where things got lost and it was eventually published. Kind of like how you tell a story enough times by word of mouth and it’s no longer the same when it’s finally written down. Faust was the name of the kind of creature. From what I’ve heard, no one actually remembers the man’s name.”
Ortiz picked up on what I said. “Kind of. Meaning there’s not just one of these out there?”
I shook my head. “They’re a species, from what I can gather. Fausts are behind the origins of stories like selling your soul and paying the devil its dues. And now the devil’s here to collect.”
“That’s what Kelly meant when she said that all of Daniel’s neighbors are freelancers that made it big.” Her eyes widened in realization. “You don’t think they all struck deals?”
I lowered my head, looking at her out of the corners of my eyes.
She rubbed the heel of a palm against her forehead. “Of course they did. Milo, the rest of them…” Ortiz trailed off when her gaze fell back on me.
I avoided the look.
“No. Daniel did not make one of these deals.” Her voice was cold iron, unflinching and hard.
I wished mine could have sounded the same. It came out more like worn stone about to crumble under its own weight. “I never said that he did, Ortiz.”
“But you’re thinking it.” The metal in her voice quivered.
It hurt hearing that, the possible doubt in me and in her friend Daniel. She had already lost him. Ortiz didn’t want anything tarnishing his memory. That was a different kind of pain, something that sticks—lasts.
I shrugged. “I don’t know what to think. There was no reason for Daniel to be killed. Only way Fausts get involved is if you deal with them. From the bits of lore I’ve got, they can’t reach out and affect you unless a bargain is struck.”
“Maybe Daniel found out, found something about the Faust? If someone’s butting into its business, isn’t that enough cause for it to want to kill him?”
It was possible. I didn’t want to admit that because I didn’t know where it would lead. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but I swallowed and gave Ortiz what she wanted.
“You’re right. There’s no telling why it did what it did. We’ll figure that out when we do. In the meantime, we have to find a way to kill this thing.”
Her lips went thin and she gave me a look. “And do you know where to start?”
My mouth mirrored hers, going tight. “Not much of one.”
All of my time working paranormal cases led to more information about creatures than I had time to dedicate to learning. I jotted down notes and lore in the few and fleeting moments I had between hunting and being hunted. My journal contained tons of information that I’d never have a chance to properly go through. It made memorizing every monster a pain.
I inhaled, tilting my head side-to-side, eliciting a series of small cracks. “I know one thing: Anna is the Faust we’re looking for.”
“Now we just have to find her and a way to put her down.” Ortiz flashed me a look of heated daggers.
I shied away from it and turned to my journal. “Yeah, easier said than done. Fausts can move through mirrors.” My finger trailed over my writing until I found a short scribble that touched on what I’d learned. I tapped the spot, drawing Ortiz’s attention to it. “Apparently, they can utilize them like a network of roads leading t
o certain destinations.”
Ortiz’s jaw hardened. “Like someone’s home. Like Daniel’s home.” She looked around, her eyes widening as she did.
My gaze went past her to the bathroom door. A hand of cold stone wrapped around my throat as I understood how the Faust had entered Daniel’s home before.
I bolted from my seat, snagging my journal as I raced towards the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
I ignored the question, slipping into the room and pulling my right fist back. A series of imaginary needles lanced through my fingers and knuckles. Silent reminders of the mirror I had broken earlier.
I’m not a fast learner.
A shrill crunch filled the room as cracks shot out from where my fist struck. Silver-black lines webbed out from the point of impact as chunks of glass showered into and around the sink. No errant pieces bit into the already tender flesh of my fingers. A small relief.
The digits did, however, cry out as the surface of my skin flared in a hot reminder of the earlier pain.
Ortiz cleared her throat, eyeing my hand then the mirror. She leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, putting it together. “With that broken”—she licked her lips—“is there any other way for the Faust to get in here?”
I shook my head and hand in unison. “Not that I’m aware of. To be honest, I’m not so sure it could have returned through the mirror.”
Ortiz arched a brow, waiting for me to explain.
With the tip of my journal, I batted the faucet handle for cold water. My right hand slipped underneath the spout and cool relief flooded over my raw skin. It wouldn’t do much but provide a temporary comfort but, sometimes, that’s all it takes to get through a rough patch.
Ortiz’s arms tightened around herself. One of her fingers tapped against one of her biceps.
I caught the gesture of irritation and cleared my throat to respond. “Right. Well, from what I can gather, Fausts can move through mirrors that have some connection to their power and the deals they’ve struck.” I regretted my words a second too late.
Ortiz’s finger stopped tapping and her look turned to hot steel. “So, you’re saying it could have gotten to Daniel because he did make a deal.”
The water felt colder than it was in reality. I pulled my hand from underneath the faucet, not bothering to turn the tap off. “No. What I’m saying is that’s one way they work. Everything I can piece together suggests that Fausts can read desires. They pick up on it like a dog with a scent. These freaks can follow that trail to where it leads. A home usually.”
Ortiz’s finger tapped twice, but she remained silent.
“Thing is, I’m not Daniel. Not really. So, I don’t think a Faust could still connect to his home.” I took a deep breath, hoping my next words would settle Ortiz’s nerves about her departed friend. “I don’t think the Faust came into his home because of a deal he made.”
Her posture softened. I saw the stiffness leave her shoulders and back. Ortiz’s mouth parted, and her head leaned a fraction to one side. She was curious and relieved.
Good.
“I think it came to strike a deal. That’s the working theory. But I’ve got a hunch they can work the whole mirror thing to enter a home and offer a bargain. If they’re shot down, they have to leave.”
Ortiz’s lower lip folded and her teeth almost bit down, but she refrained from chewing. “Why do you say that?”
“Think about it. There’s no point coming into someone’s home to kill them if you’re a Faust. They want—need—deals. They want souls. A Faust can’t take yours if you don’t sign it over. Enticing you is part of the deal. It’s a bit hard if you’re breaking into the place to threaten a human. Besides, there’s something else at work too.”
“And what’s that?”
I pointed towards the living room. “Head back there and I’ll show you.”
Ortiz’s mouth twitched, but she did as I asked.
I followed her out and stood in the middle of the place, waving a hand around us. “What do you see?”
Her hips shifted as she leaned a bit more to one side. “A room.”
I sighed. “Is that all?”
“Daniel’s room.”
“Right. Daniel’s room. His. It was his. That matters. This whole place”—I waved again—“is his home.”
A blank expression took over her face. “You’ve lost me.”
It wasn’t an easy concept to explain, but I figured it was worth a shot. I rubbed the back of my good hand against my mouth before exhaling. “Alright, short and simple version’s like this. There’s power in homes, particularly a home that you own. There’s a force of permanence there. It’s a house, solid. All homes are built on foundations, right?”
She nodded; her eyes narrowed, but they lacked a certain focus. Ortiz wasn’t following me. Not yet.
“Homes are a place of foundation in one’s life. You sleep in them. Grow in them. Raise families, make and share love, create memories. You leave them in the morning and look forwards to returning as quickly as you can. They’re a strong part of our lives. A constant part. That creates a form of power around them. They’re yours. A home is part of your identity in a way.”
Ortiz’s eyes widened. “Let me guess: Monsters can’t cross into your home unannounced. It’s like the myths about a vampire needing an invitation.”
“Right and, well, wrong. Monsters can cross through without an invite. They leave a huge chunk of their power behind in doing so however. It’s not always worth the risk. I’ve got the feeling the Faust was thinking along the same lines.”
“Why’s that?” She quirked a brow.
“Because they exist to strike bargains. They’re dealers, paranormal loan sharks. A debtor’s power comes from what they hold over you. The only reason she could have come into Daniel’s home is to strike a deal. Do something to get that hold over him, you know? Without that, they’re vulnerable. The Faust, Anna, would be coming into his home with little power to call on. That’s dangerous.”
Ortiz’s mouth wriggled. “That means they have to be cautious with who they make deals with.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah. And what better disguise to wear than a nurse at a hospital? Hell, what better place to work than somewhere where people are ill, injured? A place where they and their loved ones are desperate for a miracle.”
Ortiz’s mouth went thin, and her lips twitched to one side. “Miracle isn’t what I’d call it.” She made the word sound like a curse.
I shrugged. “Desperation drives people to make all manner of deals. The kind that don’t end well for everyone.” My words caused Ortiz’s mouth to pull down into a frown. “It’s part of human nature. Sometimes we’re all too willing to do something bad for a faint glimmer of hope that something good will come out of it. Not saying it’s right, but I sure as hell can’t say it’s horribly wrong. Given the situation some of these people are in, what would we do?”
Ortiz looked away to the far wall, staring more through it than at it. “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded like something obstructed her throat. “Like you said, it doesn’t make it right. People are paying for these deals, and not only with their lives. Other people are getting hurt because of them.” She cast a glance my way. Ortiz’s eyes seemed to lose a bit of their light as she stared at Daniel’s body. She gave me a thin, hollow smile.
I wished I could’ve returned an authentic one. I looked away for a moment. “Yeah, they are. And they’re going to keep paying if we don’t stop this freak.”
Ortiz’s jaw hardened. “Then I hope you have a way to put the Faust down.” One of her hands went to her hip, where she had reattached her holster in a shoddy fashion. “Otherwise, I’ll do it my way.”
I blinked and stared at the gun for a moment. “Your way?”
She bared her teeth, giving me a wolfish smile. “What did you once tell me about bullets and blood?”
A series of cold pins pressed into my spine, causing me to squirm. Gnosis h
ad confided in me a secret he claimed could hurt a great deal of paranormal creatures. A secret that could potentially harm him as well. Taking that into account, he made me promise not to use it recklessly. There was also the caveat of the word hurt. It didn’t mean kill.
I wasn’t sure if a Faust fit under the “great deal” grouping of supernatural creatures. It was a risk. One that, if used, would surely find its way back to Gnosis’ ears, letting him know that I’d broken my word.
In my world, my word is my bond. It’s one of the few currencies I can count on. There’s a list of creatures that deal with me, trade information and favors, solely because of my word. If I give it, I keep it. End.
Breaking it, even slightly, by letting Ortiz being the one to pull the trigger, would get around. It’d make my contacts wary of working with me.
I relied on the information they provided. Without that, I’d be in serious trouble.
And all of that was selfish to a degree.
How much of it was about me making my job easier? How much of it was about helping me?
I told myself six of one and half a dozen of another.
Gnosis had said that bullets coated in the blood from someone pure of soul could put a serious hurting on a number of monsters. It had less to do with the bullets and more with the blood I figured.
With Ortiz’s blood, we had a shot at putting the Faust down. It would save people. Anyone the Faust had dealt with would be free of their contract, I hoped.
I thumbed through my journal, scanning as fast as I could.
I wanted there to be an alternative.
Ortiz’s way could work. But the cost would be losing future information that could help me save more people down the line.
Trading lives for now versus lives later. It wasn’t a choice I liked weighing.
I sent another page tumbling by, stopping when I came across the final page about Fausts. An image took up most of the page.
The design was of a palm-sized star contained within a circle. Lines intersected the star, breaking off portions to form isolated triangles lined with archaic script and symbols.
A seal. A particular one. Similar to something I’d used on my first case with Ortiz.