Demon Dogs (Wildcat Wizard Book 3)

by Al K. Line

  I nodded and went back inside. What a daughter. What a woman. I don't know how she turned out so well, but it was certainly nothing to do with me or her mother.

  I made the coffee and pottered about wiping surfaces that didn't need wiping, tidied things that were perfectly neat, and generally fussed about not knowing what to do until George came in and we drank our coffee together.

  "George, I know I went overboard a little yesterday with Sasha, but I—"

  "Not again. Come on, everything is fine."

  "Hear me out, please. Look, Sasha is family, and I love her, but she is not a human. Fae are strange, they see things differently, have an entirely alien outlook on life and are unaware of the implications of many of the things they do. They meddle, when they can, and even though she means well it doesn't mean it will end well for you. If she's taking you to her home world then please, please be careful."

  "I will. I am."

  "Yes, I know, but you're young, and you don't understand like I do." I held up a hand as I knew I sounded patronizing but didn't mean to. "I'm just telling it as it is. I have more experience of magic, and of the Nolands. Maybe not from going there as such, but from what I know of the rules. And if she's taking you there then she's up to something. Can you tell me about it, about what happens there?"

  George shook her head, and looked genuinely sorry. "I wish I could, but I can't. I promised her I wouldn't, but there's something else. If I try to talk about it, any of it, my mind clouds over and the words won't come. Even thoughts of it fade, like I know what happened but can't quite make myself remember. But if I just think about it, without wanting to tell you, then I remember it fine."

  "She's put a kind of spell on you, but part of that is just because of where you've been. Humans aren't meant to go there, and they certainly aren't meant to share the secrets of such a place, so her home is clouding your mind and she's doing the rest to make damn sure you don't spill the beans on her secrets."

  "I figured it was something like that. But don't worry, I know everything is fine. Better than that, it's great. Don't worry."

  "Okay. Just be careful," I warned, probably for the millionth time, but figured that because I was a father I was supposed to nag and be annoying, at least sometimes.

  "Hey, Vicky called, said to go to hers. She was kinda surprised you were asleep, assumed you'd have been over in the night for some action."

  "We're just friends!" I said in shock.

  George looked at me funny.

  "Um, ah, you meant action as in finding Ivan's sister, not action as in, er..."

  "You're weird, you know that, right?"

  "Am not, you are." I drained my cup and grabbed George's even though she hadn't finished, then busied myself at the sink.

  "Right, I'm going to continue cleaning up then I'm seeing Sasha again later. You gonna be out all day?"

  "Will you be okay if I am, after yesterday?"

  "I'll be fine. It's sad, and I miss her, but, well, I dunno, it doesn't feel so bad because I know we did the right thing for her. That she had happy years with us and we looked after her. Is that wrong, that I think like that?"

  "No, honey, it makes you a beautiful person."

  As my daughter objected, and her neck flushed, I hugged her with my wet, soapy hands, and kissed the top of her head until she squirmed free.

  "Wait, before you go. Look, chances are I'll be out late tonight, maybe all night. I've got a lot of traveling to do to find Avisha, and the Fat Man is bloody miles away. So we'll have to skip dinner, okay?"

  "Okay, but don't make a habit of it."

  "I won't. Promise."

  Five minutes later, hat on head, wand in pocket, keys, wallet, attitude, and world-weary face all present and correct, I said goodbye to my daughter once more and headed off into the nightmare underbelly of the country where even respectable gangsters never set foot. And for good reason.

  Focus, Arthur

  Talking to yourself can be unhealthy, mainly if other people are watching and they call the loony bin. Yes, it's happened. But as I made my convoluted way from home to barn to house, and from car to car and tried to remember what I was driving and my new address, talk to myself I did.

  Life, for want of a better word, was a right royal fucker at times. And yes, I know that's more than one word, but as George would say—whatever. I'd say, "Talk to the hand," and shake my head from side to side, but George would pull a face and tell me nobody did that ever, and I'd feel old.

  I tried to imagine what it would have been like for Ivan growing up, and even after the story he'd told me I couldn't quite picture it, which was just as well, but how he'd got through it all was a miracle. Nobody would come out the other side from all that abuse unscathed, he certainly hadn't, but to still be sane was proof of his formidable will.

  Or had he been utterly broken? I suppose he had, otherwise why stay? Because he knew no other life, had put his early years in a safe place in his mind so they wouldn't be corrupted and slowly, year after year, those memories had faded or were too hurtful to recall. But he'd finally snapped, had taken a way out when presented with it, and had scoured his city and done all he could to find his sister to no avail.

  Merrick's secrecy came as a surprise, no doubt to Ivan too. You'd have thought somebody would have known what had happened to Avisha, but apparently not. That meant he either trusted none of his men, or she'd been moved away long ago and hadn't involved any of the local guys on his payroll.

  But she was a therianthrope, a changeling, someone who could shift when the moon was powerful and retain her human wiles while the animal, the wolf. Okay, let's not beat about the bush. Much as I dislike the word and it's cliched, she was a bloody werewolf same as Ivan, except he was now a vampire, gangster, Big Boss werewolf, which I suppose is cool if you're him, not so cool if you're anyone else.

  It was right then, as I drove to Vicky's suburban nightmare, that the reality of it all finally sank in.

  I wasn't dealing with a lackey made good. The Hat was on a job, doing a favor for probably the most powerful creature in the country bar Mikalus himself. No way would they pass up a guy like him. He was hardcore to his very soul, could keep secrets like nobody's business, and if he continued to expand like he had, and with the vamps' influence, he'd rule the damn country with a vampire army behind him inside the year.

  So I decided right then and there to find his sister. Up until now I'd figured I'd do all I could, but if I couldn't locate her then that would be that—at least I'd tried. But this sudden realization of exactly who he was now, and what he would become, and how the landscape of my world was changing before my very eyes, well, if I wanted to keep on playing the game then this was something I had to do, no possibility of failure.

  I would find Avisha Malak, my very future might depend on it. I got the feeling it did.

  Pulling up at Vicky's, I almost turned right back around and got on with business without her. Hell, no way was she experienced enough, let alone large or tough enough, to go where I knew I had to go, although she'd surprised me before and probably would again.

  But, and I want to make this absolutely clear, I in no way got butterflies thinking about leaving her behind, was in no way worried about how she'd react and the torrent of abuse and crying that would result, and was absolutely not scared of her or anything like that. I was The Hat, and he wasn't worried by tiny little housewives, even if they were prone to shooting men in the face if they messed with her kids' trophies.

  So I went and got her. You know, just because I was a nice guy.

  Bleh

  "Absolutely not. Talk to the hand," I said, putting my palm in front of Vicky's face so I couldn't see her, forgetting about George's warning about it not being cool anymore, and never had been, which was a lie.

  "I'm getting a divorce," said the wet, red-faced, shaking and wobbling mess of a creature standing before me in the hall.

  "Um, I can see you're busy. I'll leave you to it." I backtracked and r
eached for the door handle but Vicky stalked me, tears streaming, arms out wide for a hug.

  "Oh no you don't, I'm not falling for this."

  "Arthur! How can you be so mean? I need a cuddle. Did you hear what I told you?"

  "I heard you, and so what?"

  "So what? I'm getting a divorce, my children will grow up in a broken home. They'll be outcasts, I'll be a single mom. People will talk and call them names and their dad will buy them burgers on Sunday afternoons and make them fat and then they'll get pregnant at fifteen and be drug addicts and die from an overdose when they're twenty and become hookers."

  "Will they be hookers before or after they die from the overdose?" I asked, the damn door handle somehow eluding me. Had she hidden it? Was it removable? How the hell did I usually escape? My mind shut down on me under the vicious, unrelenting onslaught of Vicky's wild imagination. The tears didn't help, they did something weird to me inside and my brain froze, like I was standing before a fluffy puppy with big brown eyes and holding a massive rock over its head.

  "Arthur!"

  "Right, that's it. Get a grip you stupid woman." Vicky stopped her emotional display and stared, open mouthed. I didn't shout at her like that, certainly not when it seemed like I meant it. But hell, I wasn't the one in a marriage here, so why should I have to handle all this crap?

  "You are one cold man." Vicky turned and made to walk off but I grabbed her by the arm and turned her to face me.

  "You need to stop with all this bullshit. You don't even like the man. You don't miss him when he's away, you think he's having an affair but that only annoys you because you're worried someone might find out, and so what if he is and they did? You don't like anyone that you're both friends with, you hate colleagues he brings home to impress from the office, can't stand the other parents, or your own life. You want him gone, and your idea of what will happen to your girls if you get divorced is so out of touch with reality, so condescending and insulting to every single parent struggling to raise their children as best they can, plenty of whom do just as good a job, if not better than you, I might add, and so ridiculous and mean and cruel and... ugh. Sometimes, Vicky, I don't even want to look at you."

  To say she was shocked is an understatement, but at least she'd stopped crying. This had been a long time coming so I figured I'd best get it all out now.

  "You do this perfect mom thing, like all you want is what's best for your girls, but it's bull. You judge other parents, people doing everything they can to raise happy, healthy children, and you look down on them. Well, I've got news for you, Miss Oh-so-perfect, you're nothing special. What, you think raising kids in a home with two parents that don't love each other, don't talk, don't laugh and joke and spend time with their children together, is better than them living with just you? What planet are you on?"

  Vicky stumbled back and sat on the stairs, mute. Damn, should have got this off my chest sooner.

  "Yeah, that's right, you're a lousy parent for making them live like this. You think they don't know? You think two smart kids aren't more than aware that Daddy is a screw-up of a father? That he is never around, that their parents don't get on? Of course they know. All the snide comments, the backstabbing, the things you say about him when they're in the room, you think none of that sinks in? You're a bad mother."

  Even as those final words spewed from my mouth I knew I'd gone too far, pushed it. As I tried to backtrack, said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. You're a great mother, but the rest, well, it's true," Vicky turned purple. Her body trembled and she somehow seemed to grow in size, her eyes bulged and her cheeks puffed out, and I think she would have tried to kill me if the doorbell hadn't rung right that moment.

  I glanced at the door to see a blur of a shadow through the weird frosted glass, and when I looked back at Vicky she was just a tiny, sad, pathetic woman sat on the steps looking beaten by the world and worst of all by her best friend.

  "One moment," I called out, then went to her. I bent down in front of her, lifted her chin with a finger, and said, "I didn't mean all of that, but you have to understand, you'll be fine if you want to leave him. If that's what you want then I'm here for you. But don't go insulting others just because life threw them a sack of shit and they happened to catch it. Nobody's perfect, Vicky, and I'm sorry to say that includes you. You do what's best for you and your girls, but enough with the drama, okay?"

  "Okay. Sorry. Am I really a bad mother?"

  "No, and I apologize. That was just me getting frustrated. You're the best, always have been, always will be. But can you please answer the door? That ringing is doing my head in."

  Vicky reluctantly got up and shuffled to the front door.

  She opened it and there stood one of the sorriest excuses for a human being I'd ever seen in my life.

  Vicky's husband. Better known as the Slug.

  He glanced at her, glared at me, then barged into the hallway and punched me right in the face.

  Being "That" Guy

  "I don't have time for this nonsense," I moaned, getting up and rubbing my jaw. I scowled at the Slug, then Vicky, then bent and retrieved my hat.

  "Aha! I knew it," said the Slug. "You're having an affair, aren't you? Go on, admit it." Jowls like cottage cheese wobbled under his weak chin and his whole body shook with anger, with hurt, and with fear too. He wasn't the kind of man to go around hitting others, that wasn't his world.

  "This is Arthur! Of course we aren't having an affair. You're the one having an affair," accused Vicky.

  The Slug just stood there, mouth opening and closing. Yeah, he was as shocked by the news as I'd been. "Me? Have you seen me? Who would I have an affair with?" He had her there.

  "I'm not gonna be that guy. I'm not getting stuck in the middle of this. You two sort it out, one way or another. And, Harry, I'll give you a pass on the punch, just one, but never hit me again. Vicky's your wife, but my friend, and your relationship is your own business, not mine. But we aren't up to anything, nothing, er, intimate anyway." Damn, that wasn't making things better.

  "You're always with my wife." The Slug was deflated, but he had a point.

  "Yeah, well, how about this?" I was in two minds about saying anything, but me and keeping my opinions to myself never agreed, so here it came anyway. "How about you start work at a proper time in the morning, finish at a respectable time, and spend the weekends with your family?"

  "I have a job, I have to work."

  "Bollocks. If your job eats up all your time then find a new one, but I know you, I know you're good at it, and the company would be lost without you. So work proper hours and stop moaning about it. Whatever, I'm out of here."

  "Arthur, wait!" Vicky grabbed me but I shook her off.

  "This is your mess, get it sorted. One hour, I'll be in the car. Then I'm gone." I stormed past the Slug, no easy thing as he was as wide as the hall, and I couldn't help but notice his skin was the color of their pale cream carpet. Damn, he was worse than the vampires.

  He slammed the door shut behind me.

  Beautiful peace greeted me as I walked to my car. A few of the neighbors were watching from behind net curtains. Let 'em look, it'd teach Vicky a lesson. In the car I sighed and leaned back into the seat. I was coming to the conclusion that Vicky was a terrible choice for a sidekick.

  On the Road

  Fifty-three excruciating minutes later the Slug closed the front door and, looking rather flustered, nodded at me, got in his car, and drove off. Vicky came out five minutes later. She got in, buckled up, and said, "What are we waiting for?"

  "That's all you got to say?"

  "Do you want to hear about it?"

  "You're my friend, I want you to be happy."

  "We, er, made up." Vicky flushed scarlet and smiled sheepishly at me.

  "See, this is why I never want to get involved in any of this. You are, my little munchkin, an absolute nightmare."

  "I know. Sorry. Arthur, those things you said, you were right. I judge, and I look d
own on people, and I know I don't even think those things, not really. I've kept up this act, this pretense of being the perfect mom and the perfect wife for so long that half of me thinks that if I haven't got the best car, the best house, the latest gadgets and best things for my children then people will talk and think bad of me. What's worse is I think I care. Sort of."

  "It's called being a parent, honey. Everyone worries a little about other people."

  "You too?"

  "Me? No, I couldn't give a flying fuck what anyone thinks. Apart from you." See how easy it is to fool yourself?

  I drove away from the suburban war zone.

  After a short period of blissful silence we discussed what had happened and Vicky said my words had had a real effect on the Slug. They'd talked, he'd promised to try harder, and said he'd finish work early to get the girls from school as Vicky said she'd be out late, but they'd talk properly on the weekend. Then they'd hopped into bed for a quickie and that was when I zoned out, but not soon enough.

  Knowing I was stuck with Vicky for the foreseeable future, I filled her in on what had been happening, which wasn't much, and she gave her condolences again for Marjorie. I shared my concerns about George and Sasha, and she agreed it was a little odd but I could tell she was jealous too, and then we hit the nightmare that was the motorway and I had to focus on the driving.

  It was hours later that we finally made it to our destination. A large northern city far, far away from our home. Where the influence of the vampires would be weaker, where Ivan's network had hardly reached, and where none of the more recent players knew me, or even of me, if you can believe that.

  Another large city, another cesspit beneath the facade of regeneration. Where the city center was all sparkly and new but countless lived below the poverty line and struggled day to day. Where some spent fortunes on swanky new apartments in sterile buildings and others lived in squalor right around the corner. Where commerce boomed and criminal activity overshadowed it by a huge margin but was ignored or unheard of by the average citizen.