Grave Dealings

by R. R. Virdi

  I wanted to point out that Gnosis didn’t seem all that different to me. He’d once used a moment of desperation to wrangle a debt out of me. I let it go.

  “They don’t play the long game the way I do. They want souls. End. They’ll do whatever it takes to get one. So long as a mortal signs on the dotted line, so to speak, it’s all fair. In my business, besides information, we want those in our debts to live. It’s more conducive that way. Some come back to pledge new debts for new favors. No one gets hurt—generally—and everyone profits.”

  I kept quiet, waiting for him to get to the point.

  “Graves, are you aware—truly—of the value of a human soul?”

  I had an idea, and I wanted to be wrong. “Last time I read up on my religious books, the sum came in as priceless.”

  He grunted in what I took to be an affirmation. “Yes. Do you know why?”

  My mouth shut as soon as I’d opened it. That was a new one. I had an idea, but I stayed silent, figuring Gnosis would fill me in if I didn’t answer.

  “Do you know about the law of conservation of energy?”

  “Yeah...”

  “Energy cannot be created nor destroyed, Graves. What, then, is the human soul?”

  Holy shit.

  “I’ll take your silence as understanding. You know its power. Power that cannot be replicated. Identity springs from it, forms around it. People. Love. Anger. It’s unique. It’s energy. It’s made, somehow. I won’t get into the metaphysics of it all with you. I doubt you could handle it.”

  I squinted at the insult. That was more like the Gnosis I knew. “Thanks, that’s very big of you to spare me the high science.” I smiled more for myself than anything else.

  The gnome blew out a sharp breath that came through the receiver as a static crackle. “You’re quite lucky that this is a rather peculiar situation, Graves.”

  Why is that, I wonder?

  “Souls are currency not only to Fausts but to many paranormal beings—old things—older than me. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, not that he’d see it.

  “There are far too many uses for the human soul, but they offer Fausts untold leverage. Souls are a rare form of power that can go unequaled, if properly harnessed, in the paranormal world. Fausts, as you’ve no doubt figured, can tap into that power. That is why I’m going to tell you how to stop one.”

  The hammer was about to fall. I winced in anticipation of his price.

  “For free, Graves.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Uh, say what? Free? That’s a French word, right?” I let out a weak laugh.

  “You heard me right.” Gnosis’ voice sounded like freshly solidified molten rock—hot, hard.

  “And why are you being so generous?” I shouldn’t have asked, but I was glad I did a moment later.

  “They’re a blight. They interfere in what I do. They don’t play by the rules, Graves. Not ones any in my business adhere to anyway. But most of all, I hate them for what they are. Parasites.” The heat in his voice intensified.

  Hate has its own power. There’s a speech by a wise, diminutive puppet that’d warn you otherwise. He’d have a point. It’s got its catches, but it doesn’t detract from the point that it can make you dangerous.

  Gnosis had a personal axe to grind against Fausts. I’d heard the hate in his voice when he’d spoke. It was the kind that stays long buried only to slip out on occasion.

  Somewhere along the line, it sounded like one—or a few—had crossed him. Their mistake. I committed that to memory.

  “And that’s the only reason?” I kept my voice neutral.

  His laugh came out as puffs of air leaving his mouth and nose simultaneously. “Of course not. If you deal a blow—however small—the paranormal community will hear of it.”

  That much was true. Word always got out amongst the supernatural. My name already carried a reputation. That rep grew by the case. Bit of a shame it wasn’t always in a favorable manner.

  Sometimes notoriety works wonders if you’re a paranormal investigator.

  “Besides the personal aspect and satisfaction, it’s good business. They’re competition.” A stone-cold undercurrent flooded Gnosis’ voice. “And you know how much I dislike that. If I help you take down a Faust in any capacity, I keep my investment alive, and I’ll make sure everyone knows it was me who pointed you in the right direction.”

  Translation: Mess with me, Vincent Graves takes you down.

  He wanted to play the angle where I looked like his hitman. Gnosis wanted it known that if anything irked him, they’d be dealt with by the not-so-friendly neighborhood soul.

  It wasn’t without its problems.

  “Yeah, and that puts me in everyone’s crosshairs, doesn’t it? Your old enemies become mine. Their issues with you hang around my neck, that right? Keeps me too busy looking over my shoulder to ever square things with you.”

  Gnosis didn’t miss a beat, answering me in a voice of smoke and whiskey. “Odd how things work out like that, isn’t it?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Yeah, odd.”

  “You can, of course, hang up.”

  You know damn well I can’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called you.

  “It’s tempting.”

  “But you want to do your job. You have someone to save.” He made a condescending clucking sound. “One of these days, Graves, your proclivity for helping the little people is going to get you killed.”

  “Not today,” I said. The resolution was more for me than him.

  “No, not today. I have too much vested in your success for you to fail.”

  I bet.

  “How to kill a Faust: In short, you can’t.”

  My insides felt like they were pumped full of liquid nitrogen. I glanced at Ortiz, my eyes falling to her side. Her pistol was tucked there. It was a gamble, one we were betting on. “What do you mean I can’t kill one?”

  Ortiz turned to look at me, arching a brow.

  I hadn’t said the most reassuring of things to be fair.

  “As in mortals can’t kill a Faust.”

  I frowned and figured at this point it was worth asking the question on my mind. “You once told me about a one-size-fits-all way to handle monsters.”

  Gnosis made a sound like he’d sucked in a pocket of air through clenched teeth. “I did. I also stated that it could harm a great deal of creatures, not all.”

  I grimaced. “Let me guess: Fausts aren’t on the list of things highly allergic to magic bullets?”

  Nothing. No sound of Gnosis taking another sip, no exhale of breath—nothing.

  “Hey, Shortstack, you still there?”

  Gnosis exhaled. “Graves, have I ever told you how much I detest your short jokes?”

  “Bullshit. That’s the alcohol talking. That’s what you get for pounding back thimbles of liquor. You love my jokes.”

  He let out a dark, brittle laugh. “You know what’s really funny?” His voice sounded like it was on the edge of cracking.

  A chill passed through me and I didn’t want to answer. “No?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “What?” For a second, I felt as if I’d misheard. Gnosis failing to know something was an oxymoron. His entire job was to know. He was a literal being of knowledge. His freakin’ name meant “knowledge.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Hearing him say that a second time didn’t help.

  “Do you know what a Faust truly is, Graves?”

  I shook my head, realizing a second later that he couldn’t see me. “We’ve gone over the general bits about them. Why do I get the feeling you’re about to tell me something worse?”

  “They’re demons of desire. Fausts are a force of nature springing from the greed and want of humans and paranormal beings alike. They can alter reality so long as an accord is struck.”

  I swallowed as I caught onto what lingered between the lines. “Created from desire. Meaning so long as it exists, so
do they?”

  “That’s what I believe. And in all my years of life, I have yet to find a way to kill one. From what I understand, should you even manage to vanquish one, they’ll return. It may take years—decades or longer, but a Faust can return.”

  I paused, drawing several long breaths. “Okay, but you just said there was a way to stop these freaks.”

  “I did. You have your seal. It will work. Trapping a Faust isn’t a permanent solution. They’re like sharks, and they work together. If you imprison one, another Faust may find a way to set its fellow free. The only thing I know of that can kill a Faust is another of its kind.”

  Great. That was going to be all kinds of fun.

  “How am I supposed to pull that off?”

  “I believe that is your job.” He paused, inhaling loud enough to come over the phone with a tinge of static crackle. “Graves, be careful.”

  I blinked. Gnosis wasn’t known for being sentimental, and especially not for giving a shit about me. He was cold, practical business.

  “As you can imagine, Fausts have their own domain in the Neravene. From what I’ve heard, it’s expansive—near endless, in fact. It’s what allows them to pass through and into nearly any place with a reflective surface. I don’t know what their home looks like, and, to be frank, I don’t want to. But, if you were to find a place to trap one, Graves, inside the Neravene will be your best bet.”

  That gave me a whole lot of info without telling me what I needed to know. It was better than nothing though.

  “Uh, thanks. Last question before you run off to a meeting for the little people.”

  He grated his teeth just loud enough to be heard.

  “So, these mirror Ways… Any chance they’re two-way? Let’s say a dashing, daring, and ever-so-brave paranormal investigator—”

  Ortiz snorted.

  I turned to eye her, but she kept her face neutral and fixed ahead like she hadn’t made a sound at all. I squinted before returning to my conversation with Gnosis. “If I wanted to pass through one of them, how’d I do it?”

  “Pass through a mirror? It’s not unheard of. Humans have done it before, by accident more than anything else. I wouldn’t recommend it, Graves. I would say your only chance would be to do it the same way they do.”

  “Which is?”

  “I don’t know.” His lips smacked together like he’d taken another gulp of strong liquor.

  “Alright, fair enough. Thanks for giving me something to work with.”

  “I’m not doing it for you, Vincent. Remember that. Investment.” He dropped the word with lead weight, stressing it to ensure I knew he still had that favor. “And one more thing—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. Be careful—”

  “No. Don’t screw up and have this come back to me. I want to hear of a trapped or dead Faust, not one that is alive and coming after me.” He hung up the line.

  Dick…

  I stowed the phone and glanced to my side at Ortiz. Her gaze was fixed ahead in a good effort of pretending to be solely focused on the road.

  “So, you heard all of that.”

  “It didn’t sound great.” She gave me a thin, lopsided smile.

  “It wasn’t. Deal’s this. My contact doesn’t know if the whole shoot ‘em up routine will work. His info says we’ve got two options: lock the Faust up or find another Faust to kill it.”

  Ortiz pursed her lips before folding the lower one to chew on it. “Silver?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know. Nothing in the lore suggests it’ll do anything. If it worked, I’m sure my information broker would have mentioned it.”

  The car slowed as we rounded a corner onto a street lined with small, commercial property. Buildings with worn brick faces and siding yellowed from age and filth. Ortiz wrestled the steering wheel as she pulled us over to the curb.

  She parked and gestured down the road to a spot I couldn’t clearly make out in the dark. “That’s the address, best I can guess. They don’t make it easy to find things here at night.”

  I grunted, letting my head thwap against the window to rest it. A small area of skin on my forearm felt like it’d been held too close to a candle. I grimaced and rubbed a hand over the spot. “Hit the lights for me?”

  Ortiz didn’t question the odd request, smacking a small interior light switch with her hand.

  The newfound brightness didn’t do me any favors. My tattoo had changed: twenty-nine hours left. Our conversation in the apartment and the trip here hadn’t taken that long. The case was running me ragged, leaving me to catch glimpses of my shrinking timeline just as it changed.

  Ortiz caught me starting. “It’s longer than you’ve had when we’ve faced down with a monster before.” She offered me a hopeful smile.

  “Yeah, how well’s that worked out for us before though?”

  “Then let’s make the best of it. What’s the plan?” Her hand went to her side, almost touching her jacket before she realized what she was doing. Ortiz stopped before patting her sidearm.

  I figured it was an unconscious gesture of reassurance. “I don’t know. I do know this much, if we don’t show up, Eddie’s dead. I can’t have that on me.” I stared at her. “And I know you can’t have it on you, either.”

  “Hell no.” Her lips spread in a smile that’d make a wolf think twice about messing with her. A faint glow shone over her face from the rear-view mirror. A mix of moon and streetlight added a haunting radiance to her feral grin.

  I almost felt sorry for the Faust. Almost.

  Ortiz unbuckled and patted herself down before exhaling. “I don’t like going in without a plan. If we mess this up...”

  “Yeah. But, if we do nothing, Eddie’s a goner. We’re doing the right thing. Even if all we do is buy him some time to get away.”

  That settled it. Her face hardened, an old glow of fire and metal filling her eyes made more intense by the shine of light.

  It hit me like a sledgehammer. I stared at the mirror. The look of realization must’ve shown.

  Ortiz’s smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I broke out into laughter. “I think I’ve got a plan.”

  She quirked a brow, waiting for me to explain.

  I reached up and wrapped my fingers around the rear-view mirror.

  “What are you doing to—”

  I wrenched hard, fighting the well-mounted mirror. A second forceful tug broke it free.

  “My mirror! What the hell, Vincent? Banging up my car’s body wasn’t enough?”

  I got out of my belt, opened the door, shooting a look over my shoulder as I turned to get out. “Come on. I think I’m onto something.” I sprang from the car, hitting the street in a full run.

  Ortiz swore—notably directed at me—and sprinted after me.

  The night air felt thinner as I sucked it down as fast as my lungs allowed. I kept my eyes to the building, scanning them for a match of address. Most everything blurred in a mix of faded light, concrete, and stained metal.

  Ortiz caught up in seconds, pointing twice to a small building ahead.

  My legs juddered as I adjusted my pace suddenly and they bore the brunt of the action.

  It didn’t take much detective work to know we were at the right place. The automotive shop was dinky compared to neighboring buildings. It consisted of a two-bay garage, currently shuttered. A lone office sat on the side of the building, looking like a hastily built addition of old siding and drywall. Old oil and tobacco stained it much like the garage doors. Two billboards sat atop the building. Their white backgrounds were a mash-up of nearly a dozen different shades of white, all of which were flaking.

  One name stood out in bright red: Eddie’s Automotive Services. A series of the jobs performed at a garage were listed below.

  I looked at Ortiz, then jerked a thumb in the direction of the makeshift office.

  She got the message and moved to take a look.

  The place looked empty from the outside. At the ver
y least, it should have been.

  Which is exactly why she chose it. Pay attention.

  I took my own advice and eased up to one of the metal shutters barring the way.

  Ortiz hissed, drawing my attention. She pointed towards the office, shaking her head.

  I had suspected as much. It was small quarters—too cramped to set up an ambush in. The likely bet was inside the garage itself. Plenty of room to start a fight, or worse. Or Anna could lock the place and leave us trapped with a running car.

  Who knows? The paranormal are good at that sort of stuff and are creative about it.

  A little positivity wouldn’t kill you, Graves. No, but being in tight quarters with a freaking devil will.

  “Shut up, brain, I’m thinking.”

  Ortiz stared at me, her lips curling at edges. “Yeah, I figured you didn’t use that much for your thinking. Nice to know I was right.”

  I squinted at her.

  She didn’t say anything further, but her smile grew.

  Ignoring her, I leaned close, just shy of my left ear coming in contact with the old and unhygienic garage door.

  I didn’t make it this far into the case to be offed by a hideous ear infection.

  Ortiz placed a hand on my shoulder, easing me back. “Let’s try it your way, hm?” She banged her knuckles against the door several times. “It was either that, or you could have kept at being Listens to Doors All Day.”

  I scowled. “Quiet, smartass. There’s only room enough for one of us.”

  She shifted her hips, one of her hands going to her gun.

  “Or two’s cool. It’s cool.”

  Ortiz blew a breath out her nose and laughed.

  It was cut short as metal rattled and a mechanized groan cried out through the night. Both doors shuddered in unison before lifting upwards. They slid up and retracted along the roof. The insides of the garage were impenetrably dark.

  The kind of dark that doesn’t happen on its own.

  I traded a glance with Ortiz. “Well, that’s reassuring.”