“I’ll look into it right away,” I said slowly, figuring the best I could do was to stall and add this to the list of things to ask Sybil about. “But it might take me a while to figure out who or what did this.”
The Sheriff took a deep breath then exhaled before speaking.
“I don’t mean any disrespect,” he said. “But our humans are supposed to be off limits to your kind. Up until now, I haven’t had to deal with anything that couldn’t be explained away with some creative paperwork. But this was done out in the open, in the daytime for everyone to see. I can’t have that sort of thing happening around here, especially since neither one of us wants to draw extra attention to—our situation.”
“We do not wish to cause you any problems,” Raziel said, his voice taking on a soothing tenor that my ears immediately detected. I didn’t know what Raziel was up to, but the Sheriff calmed down.
“John will determine which creature committed this atrocity, and I assure you, he will punish the guilty party appropriately. That is one thing he does very well.”
I turned and looked at Raziel. I felt horrible about the dead woman, but I didn’t like some random angel making promises I might not be able to keep.
“I’ll do what I can,” I said with a tight smile aimed at the Sheriff. “That’s all I can promise.”
“You’ve always been good to your word,” the Sheriff said. “But whatever you’re going to do on your end, do it before this happens again.”
I nodded and took another look at the dead woman’s face.
She’d been attractive, with prominent cheek bones and short, jet-black hair. Anyone could have told you that. But there were even more details I could see that no human would have noticed—namely the few grains of yellow-orange powder on the inside edges of her nostrils.
I closed my eyes and cursed under my breath because I’d seen the same powder before in the soul jars at Marie’s house.
“When did this happen?” I said to the Sheriff.
“About an hour ago.”
I nodded. Oizys said that Marie had escaped from Ashburn earlier in the day, so something wasn’t adding up. It was possible she’d returned to kill this woman for some reason, but it didn’t seem likely. Once again, I wondered if Oizys had lied to me. Maybe Marie hadn’t gone anywhere at all. Regardless of whether Marie had really escaped or not, she was connected to this woman’s death somehow. I would rather have left things up to the Sheriff and his people, but I could feel the gnawing of Ahriman’s magic alive in my stomach, compelling me to get to work.
“I’ll figure it out,” I said again. But this time I meant it. “What was her name?”
“The credit card in her pocket said Laura Henders.”
I stood up and stretched my back even though I didn’t need to. Some habits die hard.
“Where will you start?” Raziel asked.
“Don’t worry about that,” I said, trying to be a little more of the asshole I was supposed to be. I ignored Raziel, walking past him and signaling for Shadow to follow me to the car.
By the time I left the murder scene, it was getting late. I needed to find out what had happened to Marie and how she was connected to Laura Henders’ death, but I wanted to talk with Sybil first, and I needed some sleep. So I headed home, hoping to catch her before she left for the night.
After a short drive, I pulled into John’s garage and let Shadow into the house. Before I went inside, I opened the trunk and pulled out the guitar neck that had saved my ass the night before. Destroying such a beautiful musical instrument had been a sin, and holding the walnut neck in my hand felt like I was carrying the physical remains of a dead person. But I couldn’t change what had happened. Based on what Chaz told me about the strings, I carefully unwound them from the headstock, rolled them up, and left them in the car.
“You need a better name than Guitar Neck,” I said. “Maybe something fierce like Demon Killer.”
Seeking inspiration, I took a look at the guitar neck using my goggles, but I ripped them off immediately as intense white energy stabbed at my optical nerves. I wasn’t sure exactly what Chaz was—maybe an angel or even a god—but whatever he was, he put a lot more than love into his instruments.
“No wonder you did so much damage to those assholes,” I said. “I should call you God Stick.”
I shook my head.
“That’s not much better than Guitar Neck. How about I call you Gus?”
Gus was a guy who used to drive my bus all over the country, right after Yeah, Yeah became a hit. To me and the rest of the band, he was the nicest person ever, and we all liked him. But he also used to box, and no one ever messed with him either.
“Gus it is,” I said with a wry grin.
I thought about carrying the weapon inside with me, but I didn’t think Sybil would like it. I hadn’t looked at the color of her magic yet, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t white.
Instead, I returned Gus to the trunk, then stepped inside and called Sybil’s name. I hollered again before going upstairs to check for her, but she wasn’t home.
Alone in the house, I plopped down on the leather couch in the living room and waited for Sybil. Shadow jumped up next to me and licked my hand. I couldn’t help but grin as I reached over and gave his chest a good rubbing.
I mindlessly turned on the TV and surfed the channels until I came across an old Scooby Doo episode. I chuckled when I realized it was one of my favorites—Mamba Wamba and the Voodoo Hoodoo. In it, a music group performs a song based on an ancient Voodoo chant and accidentally summons a long-dead witch doctor who wants to turn them all into zombies.
Those crazy kids.
As I watched Scooby and his friends chase and be chased, I reviewed everything I needed to ask Sybil and what I had to do the next day, but I lasted only five minutes before my eyes were too heavy to stay open.
When I woke up, it was one in the morning. I shut off the TV, peeled myself from the leather couch, and let Shadow out one last time before turning off the lights and heading upstairs. Once in the bedroom, I settled my head into the stack of comfy pillows and was asleep again in seconds.
Chapter 23
THE NEXT MORNING, I slept in, relishing the peaceful darkness of the curtained bedroom. I wanted to stay where I was and let everything in Ashburn happen without me, but my stomach pangs started up the second I thought about it.
I placed my hand on the cold sheets next to me, but Sybil wasn’t there. To my surprise, I felt something close to jealousy and concern mixed together in a single emotion.
After I got dressed and fed Shadow, I sipped some coffee that was strong but still without much flavor as my little hellhound dropped another foul load in the back yard, right next to the one he’d deposited the day before.
I still didn’t know who was on poop detail, but it wasn’t going to be me.
As I drained the last drops of java and brought Shadow inside, I thought about how I was going to figure out who had killed Laura Henders and what had really happened to Marie.
Since Sybil still wasn’t home, I decided to return to the store and hit up Rose with some of my questions. A minute later, Shadow and I were headed for the bookstore again. On the way there, I thought about snooping around Marie’s house for some clues and to see if I could learn more about the yellow-orange powder in her soul jars, but I thought someone might notice me breaking into her house in the middle of the day.
When I parked in front of Ancient Pages, Ashburn was already in motion. Securing my goggles to my face, I checked out the parking lot and watched the soccer moms, business dads, self-entitled kids, weekend warriors, and more than a few demons and angels intermingled with the humans, going about their day.
With Marie still on my mind, I unlocked the door to the bookstore and stepped inside.
I was greeted by Marco sitting in my favorite reading chair.
“You’re late,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to conceal his anger, but I wasn’t in the mood to be bullied ar
ound, especially in my own store.
“You’re in my chair,” I said with a sneer.
Marco raised his eyebrows.
“I’ve been here for an hour, amigo,” he said. “And you know I don’t like to wait. We can talk about your manners later, but right now I got your stuff out back in the truck, and I seriously need to get paid.”
Marco moved toward me with purpose, wearing the same silver pendant around his neck that I knew about all too well. My body tensed, preparing for another fight, and I suddenly felt weak and drained.
Shadow growled and barked, causing Marco to stop a few feet away from me.
Good dog, I thought.
“It’s not cool to make me wait a whole hour,” Marco said.
“I had other things I was taking care of,” I said, lying.
He narrowed his eyes and glared at me.
“I’ll tell the boys to start unloading the truck, unless you have somewhere else you need to be.”
He opened the back door to the store, revealing the back end of a box truck that was flush with the loading dock. Miguel, Santos, and another gang member—a short, stocky guy with thick arms—started unloading and stacking Styrofoam and cardboard boxes against the hallway wall. They moved efficiently, maneuvering around each other like they’d done this a hundred times before.
“Where’s my buddy Julio?” I said, trying to make small talk.
Marco looked at me and smiled an evil smile. But he didn’t say a word.
Within ten minutes, the wall was almost completely hidden by the boxes stacked in front of it. When the gang members put the last package in place, they stood next to Marco, breathing hard and covered in sweat.
Marco raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“I found everything you wanted,” he said. “I hope you appreciate how hard that was. Now you owe me something in return.”
I could tell that Marco wasn’t the kind of guy who was very understanding when people couldn’t pay him. But I noticed a crack in his tough guy exterior. As he waited for me to say something, he tapped his foot on the floor as fast as a woodpecker at work, and he rubbed his forearm, like he was suddenly cold. He was turning into an unstable cocktail of emotions—a mix of desperation, fear, longing, and anger. But what I mostly saw was panic.
He had the look of a junkie who was terrified of not getting his next fix. And in that instant, I understood all I needed to know about him.
I cleared my throat.
“You don’t mind if I take a look at the boxes, do you?”
Marco cocked his head, maybe because John had never asked to look at the merchandise before, but probably because it meant he had to wait longer to get paid. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. He let out an irritated breath, then motioned toward the hallway with his hand.
I moved over to a Styrofoam box the size of a cooler and ran my fingers along the tape that sealed it.
The next noise I heard was a loud click near my ear as a shiny blade appeared in front of my face. My heart skipped a beat as Santos drew the razor-sharp knife across the tape, slicing it in two.
I removed the lid and lifted up a large plastic bottle packed in dry ice and filled with human organs suspended in a cloudy liquid. I turned to Marco and tried not to curl my lip in disgust.
“Looks good,” I said.
“You can taste it if you want,” he said. “I ain’t in any hurry.”
“I have a question for you,” I said, drawing things out as long as possible—making him wait. “Any chance you or one of your boys know anything about the woman they found dead yesterday on Claiborne?”
Marco shook his head and snarled.
“I think you have things backwards,” he said. “I deliver your shit, and you pay me. I don’t tell you anything without getting paid.”
I reached into my pocket, pretending to look for some cash, then pulled my empty hand out with a dramatic flourish.
“Looks like I left my checkbook at home.”
Marco’s forehead beaded up with sweat and his top lip curled.
I didn’t know how I did what I did next, but on instinct, I dropped my human disguise just enough for him to see my fiery red eyes and my horns. Miguel, Santos, and the new guy crossed themselves and touched their silver pendants.
“That’s not funny,” Marco said with a dour face.
Marco didn’t move any closer, but Shadow started growling again anyway.
“I thought you had a better sense of humor,” I said as Marco struggled to keep his anger and frustration under control.
Just when things were about to erupt, I heard someone clearing their throat behind me, and Marco and his three homies took a collective step backward.
I turned around and saw Sybil standing behind me.
I started to say something, but she moved quickly, and before I knew what was happening, she’d pulled the blade of an iron knife across my forearm, making my head spin and my vision dim.
She held my gaze the whole time as she moved a silver vial to my open wound and filled it with my thick black blood that drained from me with the consistency of syrup.
Marco stared at my arm, a drop of drool running down the edge of his chin.
The wound started to close on its own as Sybil put a stopper in the vial and handed it to Marco.
While Marco stared at his payment, Sybil lowered her head and sucked at my quickly disappearing wound. When she was done, she cleaned my arm with her tongue and wiped her mouth with the back of her arm.
What a lady.
“Thanks for the snack,” she said with a dreamy look in her eyes. I gave her my best pretend smile, which was about all I could muster.
“Consider yourself paid in full,” she said to Marco. “Now get out.”
Marco frowned but nodded as he placed the vial in a padded container that resembled a fancy cigar case.
Now that he had what he wanted, he was as eager to leave as I was to have him gone. Without another word, he and his three hoodlums left through the back door and drove away in the box truck.
I stared down at my arm. Marco wasn’t a normal junkie. He was addicted to demon’s blood—in particular, he was addicted to John’s.
“What was that all about?” I said. “Did you see all this shit he left here?”
“This happens every Thursday,” she said. “Marco finds and delivers specialty items the supernatural population can’t get in Ashburn or through the Internet. You pay for the items with a vial of your blood, half of which probably goes directly into Marco.”
“And the rest?” I asked.
“He sells it outside of town at an insane price, I imagine. And by the way, from what I just tasted, he got the better part of the deal today.”
“My blood tastes different from John’s?”
Sybil placed a light hand on my chest, rubbing me and looking deep into my eyes.
“It’s stronger and sweeter—like it’s cut with honey. I might need some more of that tonight after I get home.”
I gently pulled her hand from my chest and led her to the reading chairs in the front of the store.
“Do you know anything about the woman who was killed yesterday?”
Before Sybil could answer, a young girl in bedazzled jeans and pigtails bounced in through the door. At first glance, she looked like a little kid. Because of the way Sybil’s face soured when she saw her, I put my goggles on. With them, the illusion gave way, and I could see she was actually a short, red impish male demon.
I opened my mouth to ask the imp what he wanted, but a crowd of supernatural beings stepped on top of and over one another as they entered the store.
“They’re not here to buy books, are they?” I said to Sybil.
“Not likely,” she said with a sneer. “They’re here to pick up their packages.”
Chapter 24
FOR A HORDE of demons, they were well behaved, forming a single file line and whispering amongst themselves while they waited.
The imp was first,
his red skin taking on an orangish glow under the store’s fluorescent lighting. The next demon in line waited a respectful distance behind him, his arms crossed as he avoided eye contact with me.
“Did you find it?” the imp said.
“Of course,” I said, taking Marco at his word that he’d found everything John had ordered from the previous week.
I turned to the stacks of boxes but had no idea which one belonged to the imp. Sybil picked up a package the size of a lipstick container and held it up for the little demon to see.
The imp smiled and reached for it.
“First, you pay,” Sybil said, pulling it back.
The imp sighed, then whispered three words of abrasive, brittle magic and held out his hand. A small piece of parchment paper, the size of a playing card, appeared in his palm.
I plucked the piece of paper from his hand and studied it. Hand-written arcane symbols were scrawled across it, and its edges were uneven, like it had been cut from a larger sheet. The symbols might have formed a word, but if they did, I didn’t recognize it or the alphabet in which it was written.
The imp looked to his left, then his right, before leaning toward me.
“I did what you told me,” he said in a low voice. “I kept it safe and didn’t let anyone see it.”
“Are you saying I gave this to you to give to me?” I said, with irritation more than menace in my voice.
The imp’s face swelled into a grin.
“I see what you’re doing. You’re testing old Abby, aren’t you? I’m giving it back to you because that’s what you told me to do. And that’s all I need to know! Now, you have what you want. And I want what is mine.”
“After we discuss next week’s delivery,” Sybil said.
Abby rubbed his chin and looked up at me with a coy grin.
“I…seek a copy of…Home Alone 3 and 4. On a thumb drive. They are both rumored to be superior to the original.”
I narrowed my eyes and stared at him.
“You want two movies about a little kid playing tricks on adults?”
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