Open the gate, Annemarie had whispered to me. Open the gate and walk in paradise. It had seemed crazy at the time, in the heat of the moment. Just the ramblings of a fanatic who believed her own bullshit.
Now, it didn’t seem quite so crazy. “A devil’s doorway,” I said. Kelly started like I’d poked him with a pin.
“Devil’s doorways aren’t big enough or lasting enough to do any damage,” he said. Will and I both swiveled to look at him, along with the rest of the detectives.
“And you know this how?” I demanded, crossing my arms.
“I’m a warlock,” Kelly said, plainly. When we all just stared at him, he added, “A witch versed in battle magick?” He glared at Zacharias, Bryson, and Batista like he wished he was working painful spells on them that moment.
“Anybody got a problem with that?” I asked.
“Explains why you’re such a cheerful bastard,” Bryson said.
Kelly just glowered. “A devil’s doorway is a tiny fray in the space between,” he said. “Big enough for a single body or maybe two to slip through.”
“Or three,” I said, thinking of the selkies.
“Okay, stop me if I’m off the course here,” said Bryson. “But if this heartstone amplifies a working, wouldn’t it make a devil’s doorway that’s, you know, unusually large?”
“You can’t rip the fabric of the realms,” said Kelly. “It’s not the same as magick on our side. You can just push it aside for a second, like a waterfall. For a rip, something would have to come through and wound it, tear it apart …”
Something else Annemarie had said to me, that I’d put down to the last words of somebody who wasn’t too stable to begin with, lit up my mind. I dug into Bryson’s desk and drew out a city map, grabbing a marker from his pen holder and drawing an X over Garden Hill Cemetery, the place where Lucas and I had seen Wiskachee, the hunger god riding Lucas’s body, reborn, tearing himself out of the aether and nearly taking me with him.
I drew a line out from the X, a line that cut across downtown Nocturne, through the block where Mikado was located, through Milton Manners’s shop, and out to sea, only a few miles from the beach at my cottage.
“There is a tear,” I said. “When Lucas and I caught up with Wiskachee, his corporeal body died, but the tear he used to come through didn’t.” I stabbed the marker on the line. “That’s how they’ve been bringing things through in such numbers. That’s what they need the heartstone for. There’s something big coming. Too big for their will alone.”
“I’ll be damned,” Kelly said, stroking his chin.
“You think it wouldn’t work?” I snapped, perhaps defensively.
“No,” Kelly rumbled. “Just kind of wish I’d thought of it.”
“I’m going to ignore how creepy you are for the moment,” I said. “Our number-one priority should be finding these Thelemites and—”
The phone in my office shrilled, and I ignored it, but it kept ringing. I stalked over and snatched it up. “What? What is it?”
“Luna? It’s Captain Delahunt.”
I paused at the voice of my old SWAT commander over the line. “What’s going on, Captain?”
“Turn on your TV,” he said. “Channel One.”
I fumbled for the remote and snapped on the small set sitting on the file cabinet in the bullpen. We didn’t have HDTV with fiber-optic integrated like most task forces. We were lucky to have cable.
NC-1, the local news channel, was showing a shaky cam view of downtown, shot from a helicopter. “As you can see,” the anchor faded in, “the destruction is widespread, and SWAT is on the scene attempting to contain the threat.” Smoke was rising in a thin plume, and ruptured water mains sprayed high into the air. In the low light, an enormous shape moved through the ramshackle buildings of Waterfront, leaving a wake of broken brick and smashed cars as it loped along on legs like trees. “It’s unknown at this time whether this is an act of terrorism or a supernatural occurrence …” the reporter droned on. “But the creature who appeared on the thirteen-hundred block of Cannery Street this Halloween evening seems unstoppable.”
“What the fuck is that?” Bryson said.
“Captain,” I said into the phone. “What the fuck is it?”
“We were hoping you could tell us,” he said. “This thing just showed up, out of nowhere, and started doing a Hulk number on five square blocks. Rapid response is in the shit, Lieutenant. The SCS needs to step in here. You’re supposed to be equipped to deal with the freaks of nature.”
I looked back at the screen, in time to watch it fuzz and blur as the thing flung a car bumper at the news chopper.
“We’re rolling,” I said to Delahunt. “Okay,” I said, hanging up the phone. “Batista, Kelly, Bryson. You’re with Will and me. We’re going to go down to Waterfront and back up SWAT.”
“What about me?” Andy said, with a long face.
“You stay here and figure out where the Thelemites took the heartstone,” I said. “Dig into property records, financials, whatever you have to.” I checked the clip on my Sig and chambered a fresh round. “As soon as we deal with this critter, we’re going to bust them and hopefully ruin their day.”
I didn’t say the second part aloud: that we’d bust them and make the world safe for puppies and rainbows only if that thing rampaging through Waterfront wasn’t exactly where the Thelemites wanted us to be, to meet some manner of a horrible death trap.
As I was jogging after Fagin to his car, my BlackBerry rang. “What?” I snapped, sure it was Andy with yet another inane question.
“Luna, have you seen what’s going on?” Lucas’s voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the fear creeping in.
“We’re headed there now,” I said, glancing at Will. He started the car without comment, but I knew he was listening. It’s what I’d be doing.
“I need to see you,” said Lucas. “Something’s off about this whole thing. Daemon creatures, that codex, Cerberus. It’s bad mojo in the city tonight, Luna.”
I slid into the passenger seat of Will’s car. I’d been so careful to keep them apart, so guilt-ridden over the whole thing.
I had enough guilt to push me down into the earth. I put the BlackBerry back to my ear. I was through with the angstful high-school crap. “Meet me at the scene,” I said to Lucas. “Thirteen-hundred block, Cannery Street.”
If my team could deal with rogue witches trying to pull something through a temporal rift, I sure hoped they could deal with me seeing a wanted man.
Will downshifted, taking the curve on Cannery with a squeal of rubber as I hung up. “Who was that?”
“Lucas Kennuka,” I said, looking ahead toward the plumes of smoke and steam rising through the night. We had to be over the line of the tear now and I realized that I could feel it, a chill on my skin, raw power seeping into the air like a chemical leak. If I didn’t know better I’d put it down to edginess, tension over my job stress, but it was magick, trailing its fingers along the back of my neck.
“The guy who shot me,” Will said, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. We were coming up on the police cordon, the familiar carnival of red and blue on the tops of patrol cars turning the street into a grotesque parody of the parties going on in the nearby clubs.
“Yes,” I said. “The very same.”
“I don’t like that, Luna,” Will said, nudging his door open. I got out of the Mustang and looked at him across the roof.
“If this thing is as bad as the selkies and the basilisks or, hells forbid, that daemon, we’re going to need his help. Whatever wounded man-pride you’re nursing—get over it.” I marched over to the cordon and flashed my shield at the nearest uniform.
He waved me on. “Captain Delahunt’s over there, Lieutenant,” he said. “Never thought I’d see a day when I was happy the freak squad showed up.”
“Your comments are appreciated,” I said, making sure to give him a bump with my shoulder as I crossed the scene to the captain.
“It’s in the alleys, back in those tenements,” he said, pointing. A loud roar floated back from the skeletal brick buildings, rattling what little glass remained in their windows. “We tried flashbangs, tear gas, plain old M4 rounds, but nothing’s denting it, and it’s getting pissed.”
“You three, hang back with SWAT,” I told Batista, Bryson, and Kelly. “Will and I will go get a look.”
“I can help,” Kelly said. “Give me some time and I can work an offensive spell to contain it.” He pulled out a shaving kit, and drew out a caster and a piece of chalk, going to one knee. Delahunt and the uniforms regarded all of us as if we’d sprouted secondary, shrunken heads.
Kelly looked to me, hesitating. He was waiting to see if I’d take his side. Could I really afford the fallout if his spell failed? Workings that went wrong would be a hundred times worse than the thing down the alley.
Another shattering roar rocked me. Then again, I could be wrong. “Do it, and make it fast,” I said. “We need to get it locked down before it does any more damage.”
Kelly complied, and started drawing on the pavement. “There’s just one thing, LT.”
How did I know that I wasn’t going to like this? “Spit it out, Kelly.”
“Someone has to drive it toward my working. Get it close enough for the binding marks to grab hold.”
Will looked at me. “I’m game,” he said.
“Oh no,” I said. “You don’t get to run in there by yourself and play the hero.”
“I can’t die,” he said, stripping off his jacket. “You can. It’s not even worth talking about.”
I grabbed Will by the tie and yanked his face level with mine. “If you want any sort of shot with me, Fagin, you can cut out the white-knight bull crap right now. If we don’t stop this thing, there’s going to be a lot of dead people for our trouble. I’m not going to sit on my ass and hope for the best, Will. I’m out in front, and you’d better just get used to it now, or leave me alone.”
“Lieutenant?” the same surly uniform shouted to me from the cordon.
I saw Lucas’s thin form standing behind the tape. “Let him through,” I called. “He’s with us.”
Lucas ambled over, obviously nervous with so many police around. Fortunately, with the ruckus from up ahead, no one was paying one skinny Wendigo the slightest bit of attention.
“I’ll go with you,” Lucas said. “What’s the move?”
“Get it close enough to Kelly so he can take it down,” I said, not looking at him. I was looking at Will. His face hardened, as some internal battle played out. I knew what my response to such a challenge would be—I’d walk away, do it on my own.
I didn’t want Will to walk away, I realized. I wanted him here.
“Please,” I said. “We … I … need you here.”
Lucas made a soft sound in the back of his throat. I prayed that he’d understand.
Will tightened his fists, and then lowered his hands consciously, like he’d wrestled something huge back under control. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s go say hello to this thing.”
Lucas walked toward the sounds without a word, and I walked abreast of him, Will slightly behind. Lucas’s face was like a thundercloud threatening to burst into a storm, but at least they were both with me. Which was good. Because much as it hurt to admit, right then I needed the both of them.
Lucas and Will followed me into the maze of alleys, away from the cacophony of light, into the dark.
Twenty-Five
Wreckage strewed my path, as if something had simply forced its way through the alley, something twice the size of anything that fit.
Great. That made me feel a lot better about being down here with just Will, Lucas, and my were to keep us alive.
A shadow loomed ahead of us, offset by the small fires that had sprung up as downed wires and ruptured gas lines colluded. It was hunched over, a mighty puffing sound emanating from it.
“If that is a dragon,” said Lucas, “you can count me the hell out. I didn’t sign up for any Lord of the Rings shit.”
“If it’s a dragon? Do you even listen to yourself?” Will said. “Dragons are like vampires—they don’t exist.”
“Both of you shut up!” I hissed. The corner of the alley was close, the thing just beyond the bend. A crunch and a shriek of metal reached my ears.
I pressed myself against the slimy brick of the alley wall and crept forward, the mottled back of the thing sliding into view. It was at least fifteen feet tall, crouched over a metal trash bin, snuffling. It appeared to be chewing on pieces of the bin. It also appeared to have teeth the size of my forearm.
“What is that?” Lucas whispered. He was close enough that I could feel the cool air coming off him.
“I have no idea,” I said, watching the thing stand to its full height on dumpy, bowed legs. It was wearing a tattered skirt that appeared to be made out of awning cloth, but otherwise its gray-green skin gleamed in the firelight. A thick face with close-set black eyes swung from side to side and flat nostrils scented the air. A pair of teeth pushed over its lips, yellowed and pitted but still big enough to turn me into a crudité.
Lucas let out a breath beside me. “I haven’t had a lot of experience with critters from the netherworld, but that thing is a gods-damned troll.”
The troll whipped its head toward us and let out a roar that shook the ground under my feet. Then it picked up the remains of the Dumpster and flung it toward Lucas and me.
“I concur. Move!” I shouted, pulling him back around the corner. The twisted metal sailed past and went through the wall opposite with a crunch that sounded like a hundred bones breaking.
“All right,” Lucas said, shifting with a snap of moisture against my cheek. “No more chances.”
I realized belatedly that we were one intrepid adventurer short. “Where’s Will?”
Lucas flowed back and forth, his pure silver eyes tracking over the alley. “Gone.”
“Dammit,” I growled. “Will!”
The troll lumbered closer, and looked down at us, its chest heaving. It rumbled something that sounded like rocks cracking together, pointing a finger the size of my thigh at me.
“We don’t want to hurt you,” I said. “We just need you to leave, preferably with the rest of the block intact.”
The troll reflected for a moment, picking an entire chicken carcass out from between two granite-colored molars, and then it shook its head with a roar, jabbing its finger at me and spouting more invective. I may not speak troll, but I can tell when I’m being cursed at.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Hey, settle down!”
The troll reared back and its massive fist came sweeping down. It passed through Lucas’s misty limbs but grazed me, throwing me backward onto my ass.
From my lopsided vantage, I spied Will, clambering up a half-ruined fire escape behind the troll. “Don’t do it,” I murmured, as I lay there trying to get my air back.
Will stepped out into the air, falling straight down and latching onto the troll’s back, grabbing the few wisps of moss-colored hair still riding its lumpy skull.
The troll screamed, lashing and twirling like a ride in a nightmare carnival. Will held on grimly. “Go!” he yelled. “I’ve got it!”
“Idiot,” Lucas hissed, his Wendigo voice sinister and scraping at my ear. I tended to agree with him.
“Let go, Fagin!” I yelled. “You’re just pissing it off!”
Will didn’t have a choice a moment later—the troll reached back and with remarkable accuracy plucked Fagin from its neck and sent him sailing through the third-story window of the nearby tenement building. There was a sick body-meets-brick thud, and then silence.
“We split up,” I told Lucas, looking at the troll, which had a distinctly annoyed gleam in its beady eyes. “We circle through the back alleys and bring it to the cordon.”
“Fine,” Lucas said, and leapt up, landing a good ten feet away, bounding off the walls and the ground as if he weighed less than the air
. The troll followed him, trying to bat at Lucas like he was milkweed.
“Ugly!” I shouted at it, waving my arms. It grunted and turned on me. “That’s right,” I said, hoping I sounded encouraging. “You want to chase something, don’tcha, big fella? Well, come on. Fetch.”
I took off running, pouring all of my strength into the sprint. Down twisting alleys, overhung with disused wires, filled up with garbage and the detritus of lives lived in poverty, past abandoned tenements with doors like mouths and windows like blind eyes, skidding and turning until I’d lost count, always winding back toward the cordon, and Kelly.
The troll kept behind me, the narrow spaces between the abandoned buildings giving it trouble. I heard crashing and the screech of rebar as I rounded what should be the last corner, and almost smacked into a solid brick wall.
“Hex me,” I said, the words coming out soft and meek. There was no exit from this end of the block, just more tenements, marching in their endless slumped line down Cannery Street until they terminated at the water.
The troll came lumbering, jabbering at me in its earsplitting language.
“Buddy, I wish I could help you; I really do,” I said. I kept myself on the balls of my feet, watching the ungainly hands that could crush a compact car.
The troll picked up a dislodged bathtub and flung it at me, and I dropped, rolling to the side as ceramic shards split the air where my head had been.
“This is in no way productive!” I yelled at it. “I am not a Whac-A-Mole game!”
It let out a loud chuffing, covering me in breath that smelled like the inside of a bar bathroom after St. Patrick’s Day, and bared its teeth.
Great. At least it thought I was funny.
I ducked another volley of debris from the troll, trying to find a way out of the gods-damned blind alley. There was none. The walls around me were smooth and windowless, and the troll blocked my only potential exit.
I had my Sig; maybe I could just shoot and scare it off. Its hide, though, looked like it would bounce normal bullets right off, and potentially back into me. I drew anyway, drawing down on a spot between the troll’s eyes.
Witch Craft Page 23