by J. C. Staudt
“Just wait until you find out what my eyes can do.”
I laugh. “You’re gonna be trouble.”
“You have no idea,” she says.
I retrieve my two friends and say goodbye to Lorne and Carmine with my regrets for leaving early. Lorne is three sheets to the wind and hardly notices. Carmine says we should all get together soon for a triple date. Lorne and Dani; her and Steve; and I should bring Paige. I tell her it’s way too soon for that, but I’ll be glad to go stag if she wants to put something together. With that, we say our goodbyes. There’s a spring in my step as we take the elevator to the parking garage.
Quim is all too ready to pounce on my good fortune. “At least one of us got a girl’s number tonight. The one who needed a girl’s number the least.”
“Maybe you guys should’ve tried having separate one-on-one conversations with women instead of swooping in together like a couple of vultures. Every girl you two ganged up on tonight looked super uncomfortable.”
“We were being each other’s wingman.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“Why did we have to leave so soon?” Calyxto asks.
“Because tonight we’re getting to see something few people ever do. A hole in the fabric of worlds.”
Chapter 6
By the time we reach the hospital, I’ve briefed Calyxto on each member of the Guardians. He stops me with interest when I get to Mazriel, but his interest wanes when I provide a physical description. Quim is there to offer derisive quips as I go down the list, making his jealousy plain. He’s only been to HQ the one time, and he’s none too pleased to be returning. If he wanted to express his true feelings, there are a hundred ways to do it besides telling Calyxto that Baz smells like a wet dog or that someone could drop an apple pie on the ground and it would be prettier than Fremantle’s face.
I park the Mas outside and bring them into the garage, where Baz is tinkering under the hood of one of the Fitzroy’s Dairy vans while Urdal, Shenn, and Des load up the vehicle for our late-night run. Calyxto observes with typical aplomb, waiting for the right moment to introduce himself. When he notices Desdemona, he glances away briefly before taking a second, longer look. Uh oh.
“Great,” Quim mutters. “These people again.”
“How goes it, your highness?” Baz calls, peeking out from under the hood and waving a hand dark with grease.
“Hey, Baz. Hey, everybody. I want you to meet someone. This is Calyxto.”
“He’s a spitting image of Mazriel,” Urdal observes.
Calyxto frowns. “Oh yeah? How would you like it if I said all orcs look the same?”
Urdal shrugs. “We do.”
No one speaks.
Then Calyxto starts laughing. “You kinda do,” he says. “Nice to meet you. Calyxto Unholyfiend.”
“Is that really your last name?” I ask. I’ve been wondering since Lorne’s party.
“I told you, I don’t have a last name. Have you ever noticed that having three names is perfectly acceptable, but people find you quirky and unique when you only have one? I decided a long time ago to hedge my bets and keep it at two.”
“Name one person with only one name who everyone thinks is quirky and unique.”
“Madonna. Cher. Beck. Enya. Prince. Eminem. Bono. Pink. Shakira. Jewel. Oprah. Need I go on?”
“Point taken… Calyxto Unholyfiend.”
“In the olden days, people’s last names were indicative of their vocation. If you made carts, your name was Carter. If you made beer, it was Brewer. Why? Because it’s easy to remember. That’s why I chose Unholyfiend. So where are we headed tonight?”
“Michigan Central Station,” Shenn explains. “There’s at least one portal opening there in half an hour, so we’ve got to hurry.”
“I’ll be right back,” I tell them, and head for Janice’s room.
I arrive to find her reclining on an empty gurney, skeletal hands folded behind her head, tendrils of smoke trailing from the cigar between her teeth. When she sees me, her skull shifts into what might be a smile if there were muscles and skin to convey the message. She tosses her legs over the side and stands up as I come to face her.
“Hey, Janice. Sorry to disturb your siesta.”
She waves me off. “Sleep is for the dead. While the rest of the world sleeps, I’m busy contemplating the banality of my existence.”
I hold out my right hand, which has unfortunately touched a number of things since I wiped it across Steve’s back. “Can you take a swab of this hand and tell me what you find? My sister is dating this new guy, and my detection spell showed all kinds of othersider residue on his clothes. I’m trying to see who or what he’s rubbing up against when Carmine’s not looking.”
“For her benefit, or yours?”
“Judge me not by my motivations, but on the outcome of my deeds.”
“This is a judgment-free zone, Kemosabe. I ask the tough questions so you can answer them with shame and self-ridicule.” She grabs a cotton swab and dusts it over my palm.
“That tickles.”
“Yay. Want to have a sleepover and a pillow fight?”
“Only if you let me do your makeup. You look pale. Those cheeks could use some rouge.”
“I like how you said that right away. You’ve had that one on standby, haven’t you?”
“I’m still in banter mode. I ran into Paige Tarpley at the party tonight.”
“And?”
“And… we’re gonna hang out.”
“My my, look at you. First date since February?”
“You mean the vampire attack at Megatavern? Yeah. Let’s hope it goes better than that one did.”
“Just don’t be a blockhead and brag about it in front of Shenn.”
“I wasn’t going to. Why would Shenn care, anyway? We’re just friends.”
“I don’t care what you and Shenn are. Bragging is a sign of insecurity. Plus, it’s dickish. Now get lost. All this talk of human sexual contact is making me depressed.”
“I didn’t say anything about sex.”
“You were thinking about it. You don’t talk about the person you’re gonna date without thinking about boning out with ‘em. Trust me, I was human once.”
“Boning out. That’s funny, coming from you.”
“Shut up and leave. I’ll have your lab results for you when you get back.”
I thank her and head to the garage to help finish loading up. Fremantle, Githryx, and Ryovan have arrived and are introducing themselves to Calyxto. The imp and the half-fiend eye each other warily while Quim stands by, looking uncomfortable. Ryovan is geared up and dressed to rumble; Fremantle is stone-naked as usual, and is—as usual—one of the most intimidating naked creatures I’ve ever seen.
“Hello, stupid human,” says Fremantle.
“Good evening. I see you’re all getting acquainted with one another.”
“Prince Cade have strange friends,” Githryx observes.
I flick the imp a salute. “Present company included. So we’re headed to the train station, I hear.”
“That’s right,” says Ryovan. “Tonight we find out if our mysterious assailants were one-hit wonders or lifetime achievers.”
“I’m not going,” says Quim. “I’m not a frontline guy. Remember what happened last time I got in the middle of the action?”
“You mean the Great Lotus Debacle of last summer? How could I forget?”
“Do tell,” says Baz, peeking out from behind the hood.
“Okay, but fair warning. This story involves Quim, a gigantic penis, and a couple hundred goats.”
“Never mind. Don’t tell.”
“I figured that might turn you off.”
“If you stay here,” Ryovan tells Quim, “I’m going to need you locked in quarantine. Most of us are going, which means we’re leaving a skeleton crew behind. Too few to look after the newcomers.”
“I’ll stay behind,” Des offers. “If these murderers are vampires, there�
��s a chance we know each other. I don’t want to get sniffed out by anyone with friends on the force.”
“I thought we decided they weren’t vamps,” I say. “They used guns. And they didn’t feed on the victims.”
“Which is exactly the sort of thing vampires are clever enough to do, given the right reasons. You wouldn’t believe how many cases I’ve seen of vampires framing people for murder.”
“But they’re killing othersiders. Fresh othersiders. Who’d want to frame someone for killing creatures no one on this side knows exist?”
“I’m not saying they’re framing anyone. I’m saying they’ve got reasons for how they do things.”
“I told you they was elves, didn’t I?” Baz puts in. “I smelled ‘em, and my nose never steers me wrong.”
“If I’d been there,” says Des, “I could’ve offered a second opinion on their scent.”
“All the more reason you should be there tonight,” says Ryovan. “You’re the one who can identify them easiest.”
Des motions toward Quim and Calyxto. “What about these two?”
“I’ll stay behind with you, milady,” Calyxto offers, “if that’s your wish.”
“No granting wishes,” I remind him. “You’re on probation.”
“Probation for what?” Des wants to know.
Calyxto puffs out his chest. “It’s nothing. Just a bit of—”
“Calyxto was, until this morning, a prisoner of the Fae Council.”
Des is wowed. “Damn. You must’ve done something pretty bad.”
The half-fiend flashes his cheshire grin. “Some would say I’m the dangerous sort, yes.”
“Well you’d better watch yourself around here,” Ryovan warns. “We don’t tolerate that sort.”
“Desdemona is a police officer,” I add. “She’ll haul you in for looking at her wrong.”
Calyxto ogles the dhampir from head to toe. “So far so good.”
Des rolls her eyes. “Alright, I’m done with this creep-fest. Can we go?”
“That depends on what his highness’s friends are doing,” says Shenn.
I look at Quim. “They’re coming.”
“I’m not coming,” he says. “I’ve told you that.”
“He’s coming.”
“I am not.”
“Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know what he wants.”
“If she’s coming, I’m coming,” Calyxto offers, sidling up to Des.
She takes a big step away from him.
“You going like that?” Shenn asks me.
“Like what?”
“Like… Arden Savage, or whatever.”
“Oh. No, I’ll go as Cade. I’ve got some spare clothes in the car. Let me go inside and change.”
As I’m heading down the hospital hallway toward the bathrooms with my Cade-sized clothes in hand, I pass Mazriel’s laboratory and decide to stop in and say hi to the old bag. “Hey, Maz.”
She jumps at the sound of my voice and tosses a sheet of burlap fabric over the fat tome on the counter. “Cade Cadigan. You startled me. Bane and fulmination be upon you.”
“My bad. Whatcha reading?”
“It is not the province of the eldritch powers to extend their intuitions to those of your kind.”
“No, Maz, you don’t understand. Me and the eldritch powers, we’re tight. We’re bros. Me and the powers, we know all the good stuff. What book is that?”
She shakes her head, backing away as I cross the room to uncover the book. I pay no attention to what page the book is on or what spells are on that page. I only care about one thing. I flip to the title page. There, in heavy black ink, lies the seal.
Codex Caecos
The Book of the Sightless
Third of the Six Grimoires of Magic
Where All Are Gathered, All Shall Be Revealed
“Well I’ll be goddamned. This is one of the six grimoires. Ersatz was right.”
“You know full well the power of the six.”
Yeah, I own two of them, I almost say. And I would’ve gotten a third, if it weren’t for those meddling goblins. There’s a chance Mazriel doesn’t know about the Warrendale Crew and the Book of the Grave, or she’s not thinking about it at the moment. “This is the Book of the Sightless.”
Mazriel clears her throat and nods.
“How long have you had this?”
“It was a gift from the king.”
“My father gave it to you. This is how you’re finding out where and when the portals are opening.”
“Our toil in the rifts between worlds is foreordained. Calamity befalls those who ignore their calling.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m the prince.”
“You are a spellcaster. A wizard, as some describe.”
“Myself included. Go on.”
“To a wizard, a spellbook is a dangerous object of curiosity. This one in particular holds secrets too powerful for any but the most qualified intellect. Secrets which have been known to drive men insane.”
“But not women.”
Mazriel grins.
“That explains a lot. Okay, Maz. You win. Your secrets are your own.” I close the book and toss the burlap over it.
“You are the One Who Suffers. Your truest wisdom lies in abstaining from the secrets of this book.”
“What’s that book over there for?” I nod at the shelf across the room.
When Mazriel looks away, I slip a hand beneath the burlap. Drawing from the blood mixture in my thigh, I pull the grimoire into a pocket of ethereal space behind my wrist. I’ve never hidden something this big up my sleeve, but it fits. I didn’t get a good look at the book’s cover, so I summon an illusion in its place using a mental image of the other two grimoires I own—cracked leather beneath four pewter cornice pieces.
There’s a spike of pain in my leg, and I wince and pull my hand away an instant before Mazriel looks back at me. She frowns in puzzlement, but says nothing accusatory when she sees the book-shaped lump beneath the burlap. When I get home tonight I’ll scour the grimoire for spells that might help me find my father. Then I’ll return it before anyone knows it’s missing. All I have to do is make sure Mazriel doesn’t examine the illusion too closely.
“We’re about to head to the crossing. You coming?”
“Not this time,” she says.
“In that case, I need you to do something for me.”
“What does my prince require?”
“How long would it take you to create an anchorstone?”
“I am already protecting this hospital with such magics.”
“Are they temporary or permanent?”
“The wards must be raised anew each time the moon is full.”
“But theoretically you could create a ward that would last longer?”
“It would require many hours to enact such an enchantment.”
“Can you do it?”
“For what purpose?”
“My friend Calyxto has been forbidden to teleport. He’d have an easier time avoiding the temptation if he were carrying an anchorstone to prevent it in the first place.”
“I will try.”
“With spells you already know?”
She nods.
“Good. See it done.”
“As your highness commands.”
“Thank you, Mazriel.”
Ten minutes later we’re on the road, a two-van caravan packed to the brim with full-throttle badassery. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a cavalcade of dairy trucks loaded down with firepower and heading into battle, but with Baz’s speed metal chugging through the cheap speakers up front, it feels right. Someone’s about to meet the milkmen.
“So,” asks Calyxto, sitting snug beside Des on our long bench in the cargo area, “what made you want to join the force?”
Des scoots toward the edge, running out of room. “I’ve got what you’d call a raging desire to put scumbags where they belong.”
“Behind bars, you mean? I just got o
ut of prison myself.”
“Is that supposed to impress me?”
“I would rather you know the truth about my past than believe I’m someone I’m not.”
“That’s kind of refreshing, actually. I deal with fakers and liars all day long.”
“If we can’t be ourselves around those we admire, I guess we don’t admire them very much, do we?”
Des gives him a contemplative nod. It’s almost like she’s starting not to mind sitting so close to him. Having just met Calyxto, Des is unaware of his knack for deception. By the look on her face it’s obvious she’s giving him the benefit of the doubt, and there’s something about it that unnerves me.
The sidhe of the Fae Council didn’t believe Calyxto was capable of caring about others. I testified on his behalf because I, like most people, want to believe my friends are innately good-natured. Does that mean I’m willing to stand by and let Calyxto work his wiles on Desdemona at the risk of seeing her hurt? I’m torn between protecting a friend and giving another friend the chance to act completely out of character.
Up front, Baz taps his thumbs on the steering wheel while Fremantle drums thick stony fingers on the passenger-side dashboard, both bobbing their heads to screaming guitars and a rapid-fire drumbeat. Ryovan is driving the other van with Shenn beside him while Urdal, Githryx, and Quim hunker down in the back. When the vans jerk to a stop, I throw open the rear doors and step down onto hard asphalt before holstering a sidearm and strapping an AR-15 over my shoulder.
A chain link fence topped with barbed wire surrounds Michigan Central Station, a looming eighteen-story structure whose wide tower was first imagined as a hotel for travelers before it was converted to office space. The top four stories have never been used, and much like New Detroit itself, the station underwent a brief revitalization before falling into disrepair again. As an icon of the city’s history, it reeks of the abandoned hopes and dreams of a generation. As a building, it just reeks.
“How do you use one of these things?” Calyxto asks, looking down the barrel of a loaded handgun. “Can I carry one?”
I snatch it out of his hands. “No, and no.”
“That doesn’t answer my first question.”
“It answers the second one twice. Stay behind me, and don’t talk unless it’s important.”