by Flynn, Mac
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "What do you have to trade?"
"Your silence and the boy for information on Ruthven and his recent dealings," Astaroth offered.
"We are already aware of his shipment of books," Vincent told him.
"Ah, but did you know about what else happened before that first shipment hit the streets? Who else died besides your precious male human?" Astaroth mused.
"Why would another death concern us?" Vincent argued.
Astaroth chuckled. "Then it seems you don't know, but I won't tell you without your agreeing to the deal. Do we have our compromise? The boy and your silence for my information?"
"We have an agreement," Vincent replied.
"Hell no! I'm not-" Vincent grabbed me and pressed my back against his chest. His cold, thin hand clamped over my mouth.
"Continue," Vincent told our host.
Astaroth bowed his head. "Very well. Before the first shipment hit the streets one of the Witches of the West Side was murdered. Hilda was her name." I felt Vincent stiffen, and Astaroth chuckled. "I see you know the name. I heard from a reliable source that Tim was friends with this Hilda, and may have given her information that led to both their deaths. Is that information satisfactory to our deal?"
"Very," Vincent agreed. He released me and hefted Eric over his shoulder.
"No, no deal! I didn't save this guy's life just so he could dine on somebody else!" I insisted.
Quiet Vincent ordered me.
Hell no! He was going to make mincemeat human pie out of this guy and you want us to just walk off? I screamed at him.
Trust me Vincent persisted.
I snorted. Like I'm-
Just this once, trust me.
I jerked back in surprise and blinked at Vincent. He ignored me and turned to Astaroth. "It wouldn't look good if we left through the public elevator," he pointed out.
Astaroth used one of his tendrils to point to a wall to our left while another pressed a button beneath his desk. The wall slid open to reveal a secret hallway. "Through there are some stairs that will lead you to a rear door in the building."
Vincent bowed his head and strode past me to the secret hall. I glared one last time at Astaroth, but he merely smiled and bowed his head in return. His tendrils waved goodbye to me, and I hurried after Vincent.
Chapter 16
The wall shut behind me, and the hallway was pitch-black and there was only a single door at the end. No windows and no other doorways. He sped down the hall in all his long-leggy-ness and I had trouble catching up to him.
"Mind telling me why I should trust you?" I questioned him.
"We must hurry," he replied.
"What's the-" My half-finished question was answered when a laugh boomed over an intercom. Vince stopped dead in his tracks and I crashed into his solid back. My face bumped into the back of Eric's head, and I went sprawling onto the floor behind them. "What the hell?" I growled.
"Did you honestly believe I would just let you leave?" Astaroth's voice called over the intercom. "Now I can show you, Miss Liz Stokes, what your partner is truly capable of."
Vincent turned and dropped Eric onto my lap. "Oomph!" I yelped. The guy was heavier than he looked.
"Stay still," Vincent ordered me.
"But what-" Again Astaroth interrupted my question. This time it was because of the countless dark portals that appeared on the walls, ceiling, and on the floor in front and behind us. From the black depths emerged Astaroth's tendrils. Their ends sharpened to points and the slithery creatures snaked their way towards us. I pulled Eric closer to me and scooted a little closer to Vincent who stood nearby. "Okay, this is the last time we trust a demon!" I shouted.
Astaroth's laugh echoed around us. "I believe this is the last thing you ever do," he pointed out.
Vincent stepped closer to me and grasped his ringed hand in his other one. "Hold still," he repeated.
I glanced up at him. "What are you-"
Vincent joined in interrupting me as his ring and mine glowed brightly. Their lights illuminated the space around us and covered the three of us in a protective bubble of prettiness six inches thick. The walls shimmered like ice crystals on a clear, cool sunny day, and within the walls were reflected our enemies and ourselves. Vincent shoved his hands into the light and winced when his flesh sizzled and smoke rose from his fingers. He ground his teeth together, and I saw that his eyes were no longer red but a clear, crystal blue like the wall. My mouth slowly dropped open as sharp crystal icicles emerged from our bubble and protruded outward. They shimmered in their own light and pointed toward the incoming tendrils.
When the first tendril touched our bubble it was as though someone had slammed their hand against the side of a barn with the eaves full of icicles. The sharp stakes flew from our bubble and stabbed the tendrils. They pinned the creatures to the ground and the tendrils writhed in agony. The slightest touch by the icicles sent a wave of blue color up their thin, twisting bodies, and as the tendrils moved they broke themselves into millions of pieces. The pieces fizzled into puffs of dark clouds that rose up and disappeared into the air. In the background I could hear Astaroth screaming in rage as his precious tendrils were burned to steam.
The hallway was a haze of those dark clouds, and even with the bright light of the barrier I couldn't see a foot beyond the walls. Some of the tendrils broke through the onslaught, and they burst through the clouds and slammed themselves against the barrier. The walls shook and I clutched onto Eric. Vincent grimaced and winced at each blow, and the light around our rings flickered and dimmed.
"Enough of this!" Astaroth screamed.
I gasped when a large tendril, five times the size of the others, emerged from the clouds. It slammed its body against the wall and the barrier shrank by a foot. Vincent fell to one knees and blood dripped from his hands and onto the floor. He closed his eyes and willed more icicle daggers from the barrier, but the creature slid over the wall and broke them off before they could launch.
"Don't you dare give up on me now! I'm not dying in this dingy hall!" I yelled at him. I set Eric on the ground and crawled over to Vincent. His body shook with the effort of retaining the bubble and his sharp teeth bit deep into his lips. The light on our rings was fading fast when I did the only thing I could think of doing: I shoved my hands through the bubble just over his hands wrapped my palms over his hands. I grasped his fingers tightly and pressed my side against his.
The light from our rings brightened to nearly as bright when we joined our lives together. I squinted my eyes and focused my thoughts on the wall below the massive creature. The haze of darkness lifted enough so I could see its body stretched from the wall to our left.
Hit the wall! I ordered Vincent. He nodded, and one of the icicles pushed forth from the barrier wall. I tried to help, but there didn't seem to be any results. How do you work these things?
Focus on the shape and the point of impact he instructed me.
I did as he instructed, and growth the icicle in front of us increased ten-fold. It sprouted to three feet in a second and the creature reared up away from the pointy danger. My gaze flickered to the spot on the wall, and the next moment the icicle shot from the barrier and stuck into the wall. The creature screamed and writhed like its smaller brethren had done as the crystals raced up its body. It gave a hard flail and broke itself from the wall. The thing dropped hard to the ground and shook the whole hallway.
Vincent gasped and his arms fell to his sides. The barrier fell around us, and I dropped my own weary limbs. I gasped for breath, my arms felt like one-hundred pound weights, and the ring on my finger pinched hard. Battling a hellish hell demon really took it out of a girl.
Vincent pulled away from me and to Eric. He swung the young man's body over one shoulder and struggled to his feet. "We must. . .leave."
I propped his heavy side up with my shoulder and pulled him forward. "I'll second that motion," I agreed.
We reached the door and Vincent kicked it o
pen. Astaroth hadn't lied when he said it led to stairs, and we followed them down to a rear entrance to the building. Just around the corner was the car. Vincent dropped Eric in the backseat and shuffled around the rear to the driver's seat. I grabbed his shoulders and directed him around the front to the passenger seat.
"I'm not living through that just to die from you driving me to an early grave," I quipped.
"But you-"
"Can't drive it? I'll be sure to do my best granny impersonation, now sit!" I shoved him into his seat, buckled him in and took my position behind the wheel.
I creaked us out of the alley between Nightmare Tower and the office tower building beside it. There was no traffic which was great because sometimes the car would jump forward and propel us into the other lane. After a few blocks the going got easier, and I risked a glanced at Vincent. He sat slumped in his chair with his charred hands in his lap. They were partially healed, but blood still covered his scorched skin.
"You going to be okay?" I asked him. He gave a nod of his head. "Need me to kiss it and make it better?"
He grunted, which I took for a laugh. "I would rather you didn't," he commented.
I shrugged. "Just trying to help. So you think we really hurt Astaroth? He didn't stop us from going out the door," I mused.
Vincent sat up and sighed. "We caused him pain, but he will live."
I frowned. "Damn. That means he going to get away with eating more people, and we didn't stop him," I reminded him. Vincent pulled out a VHS tape and held it out to me. I grabbed it and turned it over in my hands, but there wasn't any label. "What's this?"
"The surveillance tape of the sacrifice room. I acquired a copy of it before I shut off the power," he explained.
I held the VHS tape up to him. "So we do what with this? Give it to the police?" I asked him.
"The Parasquad patrols more than just the underground when they have evidence of a supernatural crime. They will be very interested to know about Astaroth's dealings with humans," Vincent reminded me.
A smile slid onto my lips. "You sneaky devil. You know, if I wasn't driving I'd give you a kiss right now."
"Then I am grateful you are driving," he returned.
I laughed. "Well, that's a first, you thankful for me doing something."
"Do not grow accustomed to it," he warned me.
I shrugged, but the smile didn't fall off my face. "After surviving that horror I don't think I can get mad at any insulting thing you could say right now." My brow furrowed when I recalled the reason for our salvation. "What was that bubble thing you did, anyway?" I asked him.
"It is a protection barrier meant to protect the human partner from harm. Tim instructed me on how I could focus our telepathic link and use the barrier to both our advantages," Vincent explained.
"Tim taught you a lot. He must have really trusted you," I mused.
"Perhaps," was his uncertain reply.
I wagged my ring finger which lay atop the steering wheel. "Any other cool thing this little ring can do?"
"Much, but nothing you need to know until the time comes. As I warned before, the power of the ring should be used sparingly," Vincent answered.
I sighed and gave a side-glance at him. "Well, you have to admit I did pretty well tonight. Without my help we might have been tenderized by tendrils."
"You did. . .adequate," he admitted.
I snorted. "I guess I'll take that as an improvement in our trapped relationship." I nodded back at our guest. "Now what do we do with him?"
"We contact our client and return her lost pet," he explained.
"And be done with this mess." Vincent turned his face away from me and out the window. My shoulders slumped. "We're not done with this mess, are we? It's about what Astaroth said, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"What can you make of it? You know this witch he mentioned?"
"Yes."
"And we're going to get into another mess figuring out her angle in Tim's death, aren't we?"
"Yes."
I sighed. "All right, we're off to another adventure."
Ways of Witches (Dead-tective #3)
Chapter 1
I stood there bent over the sink, the picture of defenselessness. My head was shoved under the running faucet and my hair was soaked. Beside me on the counter lay the object of my desire: the shampoo. I blindly reached for the soapy goodness and my hand bumped into the plastic container. It clattered to the ground and a swear passed my lips.
"God damn this god damn damned sink," I muttered.
This was part of my daily routine. I would awaken late in the afternoon and wash my hair, or try to. The task wasn't easy when the sink was the size of a pail and you were naturally a little clumsy. I pulled my head out of the sink and looked through my wet mop of hair for the AWOL bottle. The fleeing culprit had fled across the linoleum and wood floors, and paused near the coffin table.
With my head bent down and a distinct sway in my gait I shuffled over to the coffin and snatched the bottle from the floor. Behind me was a trail of wet drops from the ends of my hairs. I knocked loudly on the coffin and leaned close to the lid. "You'd better be grateful for me washing my head in the sink!" I shouted. I would have felt bad, but it was almost night and time for him to get up. Besides, it was true. I avoided using the bathroom so I wouldn't touch his sensitive side, namely the soul in the clear bottle hidden in the medicine cabinet.
"I will thank you when you no longer disturb my rest," Vincent shot back.
"Maybe you need to get in touch with your sensitive side a little more often. It might do us both some good," I countered.
"It is not as simple as that," he argued. I noticed the drops of water from my hair and grinned evilly. I leaned over the top of the coffin where his head lay and listened to the drip-drip-drip of the water as it hit the hollow wood of his bed lid. Vince's voice replied in an even, tense tone. "Is the sun gone?"
I glanced out the window. "It's pretty much-ack!" Vincent flung up the lid and it collided with the side of my face. I stumbled back and titled my head backwards to my Medusa strands fell about my shoulders. My free hand clutched at my throbbing ear and I glared at the vampire who sat up in the coffin. "This is the thanks I get for cleaning your coffin lid?" I garbled through my hand.
"That is the thanks you deserve for disturbing my sleep. Again," he countered.
Vince lifted one foot out and my devious mind forced me to toss the smooth, plastic shampoo container beneath his foot. His shoe made impact on the round tube and his leg kicked into the air as the container rolled out from beneath him. He landed with a hard plop back into his coffin. His head hit the bottom and he lay there for a moment stunned.
I burst into a wild cackle of victory. My breaths came out in sharp gasps as I looked on Vince's wide eyes and his mouth slightly ajar. "Going-wheeze-back to-wheeze-bed?" I choked out.
Our little ruckus happened a couple of days after our last adventure with the death cult of Astaroth, and was sure signs that cabin fever had set in. The only cure was to get ourselves into more trouble, and it came knocking on the door just as Vince rose from his coffin to commit murder-suicide.
Knock-knock rang the sound on our ancient, weathered door. We both turned our heads to the entrance, and I glanced back at Vince. "You order a hooker?" I asked him.
He dutifully ignored my comment and dove one hand into his pants. Out popped the dark glasses, and in a moment they covered his red eyes. "Answer it," he ordered me.
I snorted. "Why should I answer the door? You're dressed, too," I argued.
"Because, as you duly noted last time, I am not the face of our business," he countered.
I wrapped one finger around one of my wet, limp strands of hair. Even terrifying as I was his face was rather ghastly in its paleness, so I answered the door in all my wet-hair glory. I swung open the entrance and found an old man with a cane on the other side. He wore a wrinkled brown suit that matched his wrinkly face, and on his head was a brown bo
wler. The little old man peered at me through bottled glasses and I have to admit I took a little bit of delight when he started back.
"What the hell have you done to yourself?" the man asked me. That was not the voice of an old man.
I tilted my head to one side and blinked at our guest. "Mitch?" I guessed.
He snorted and pushed past me into the room. "Who else?" he countered.
"A hooker?" I suggested.
"No, but you'll wish it was when you find out my bill," he told me. He pulled off his wrinkly mask and hat, and looked to Vince. "You were wanting to know more about Ruthven and his making trouble still, right? I'd hate to think I went all this way downtown for nothing."
Vince raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "I am."
"We are," I corrected him.
"Well, I happened to learn that he had some dealings with a-"
"-witch," Vince finished for him.
Mitch frowned. "That's right, but how'd you know?"
"Astaroth provided us with some information. What else can you tell us about Hilda?" Vince asked him.
Mitch chuckled. "He probably told you and then tried to kill you, right?"
"Yeah, death by Japanese porn," I told him.
"Just his style, which is to say he doesn't have much of one. Anyway, I got a little more than he does, but because you know the first part I'll give this half-off. The witch he was talking about is dead now, and if my info's right, which it always is, she was a good friend of Tim's." He wagged his eyebrows at Vince. "I'm right, right?"
"Yes, but where and why was she killed?" Vince persisted.
Mitch shrugged. "She was killed at her hut outside town. I'm not quite sure about your second question except that I heard it was about a spell book. There's plenty of those on the market now, so I don't know why Ruthven would throw a fuss over another one."
At the mention of a spell book Vince's pale face grew paler. He tore off his glasses and paced the floor between his coffin and the couch. Mitch and I watched in curious fascination for a few moments until Mitch coughed. "I'm going out on a limb here, but I'm guessing you know what I'm talking about."