I couldn’t get Marie off my mind, and I wasn’t hungry, but I needed to talk to someone I could trust, and the best contender was Rose.
I opened the door to Bangrak Thai and waited to be seated. The place was full, and for a second I was afraid there wouldn’t be an open table or that Rose would be too busy to talk.
Within a few seconds, a young waitress with a nervous smile greeted me.
“Any room left for me?” I said with my best attempt at a smile.
“We always have a table for you. Please follow me, and I will prepare for you a very special lunch.”
She seated me at a small table close to the kitchen, then turned to leave.
“I know she’s busy,” I said. “But could you tell Rose I need to talk to her?”
The server’s face turned to a friendly frown as she bowed her head.
“I am very sorry, but she is away, visiting her sister.”
“Where does her sister live?” I asked, not wanting to hear the answer.
The server shook her head.
“They live...together.”
“I thought you said she was visiting her sister.”
The server nodded and looked pleased.
“Yes, that is right,” she said with enthusiasm.
Confused, I gave up and ordered a dish of flat noodles that showed up five minutes later. As I picked at my food, I did my best to sort through everything in my head.
Someone had broken into my house and stolen my blood—and my bathroom trash—and it wasn’t Marco, the gang leader who was actually addicted to demon blood. A giant black goat had tried to kill me. The head of the local HOA lied to me at least twice that I knew of. And, counting Marie, two humans had died and been turned into zombies since I’d started my new job.
I didn’t know how John had performed during his first week as Ahriman’s enforcer, but I had a feeling he’d done much better than me. I reminded myself again that I wasn’t John, and that I didn’t want the job that had been forced on me. I’d done what I could do to uphold Ahriman’s commandments, and it had amounted to a big fat hill of beans. My next step was to go home, play guitar, and drink.
Ahriman could take his job and shove it.
As soon as I thought that, my guts flipped and a wave of anxiety flooded my body, screaming at me—telling me there was something I was missing or a piece of the puzzle I wasn’t seeing. I didn’t care about solving any mysteries, but I could hear the echo of Ahriman whispering my true name in my ear, and I knew I had to continue.
I’d talk to Rose when she returned, but for the time being, I decided to see the one person in Ashburn who might know more than her. He wasn’t a big talker, but he was next door, and he was always in.
Chapter 37
I ENTERED THE hidden back room of the bookstore, this time with Shadow at my heel.
“I’m home, honey,” I said, hoping I spoke loud enough for Walt to hear me. As expected, the only answer I received was the faint scratch-scratch-scratching of his pen from deep inside the spatially impossible room.
Weaving between the piles of books and papers, I made my way back to his workspace, or his prison, depending on how you wanted to look at it. He was in the same position, hunched over and writing, but the pile of finished pages next to his foot was in danger of toppling over. I picked up the stack of paper without so much as a nod from the shackled scribbler.
“I don’t know how you write all the time like that,” I said. “The last album signing I did, I got tired after my first twenty signatures.”
I carried the papers to a table that backed to a set of shelves lining the nearest wall. A stack of four thick, oversized, leather-bound books on the middle shelf stood out from the rest of the paper in the room. I picked up the first one and opened it. It was like a scrapbook inside, filled with bits of paper, each resembling the folded-up scrap I carried in my pocket from Abby the Imp. Each one of the notes carried words or symbols hand-written by Walt. The only difference between the one the imp had given me and the ones in the book was that beneath each of the pasted-on scraps was a handwritten name carefully printed in blue ink. Chaz’s name was written beneath one of the pieces of paper that contained marks from an unknown, ancient alphabet made up of lines and circles. In the upper right corner of the book’s page, the word Ahriman was printed in bold with room above it to paste a scrap of paper containing the master demon’s true name.
For a second, I wondered whether the scrap of paper in my pocket held the secrets to Ahriman’s name, but if it had, I was sure John would have used that knowledge to take down his boss and leave Ashburn forever.
Even so, my heart sped up when I realized what I held in my hands. Walt’s seemingly chaotic writings contained the true names of the supernatural beings in Ashburn, and the book paired those names with their owners wherever John had figured out the connection.
I turned the page and saw Oizys’s name printed at the top. Above it, John had pasted in a long piece of torn paper with strange letters scrawled across it. I smiled even though I didn’t recognize the language in which her true name was written. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. The instant I opened my eyes, I tried reading her name as quickly as I could, hoping that some part of John’s memory would kick in.
It didn’t.
I flipped through another dozen pages in the book, searching for any mention of the Mendes Goat, Sybil, John, or Marie, but to no avail.
Still, I’d found the secret to John’s ability to control and intimidate the supernatural population of Ashburn—his personal Rosetta Stone.
I just couldn’t read it.
I placed the oversized book back where I’d found it and walked away from Walt without a word. I walked away without the answers I’d come for, but I still knew more than before.
When I closed the door to the secret room behind me, a wave of anxiety flowed through me—the same feeling I used to get when I’d leave my house and not be able to remember if I’d turned off the burners in the kitchen.
A low throbbing began in my cranium as I walked toward the front of the store where a man and his child were waiting outside, peeking at me through the window.
I walked straight for the door and opened it, watching their faces blossom with hope right before Shadow and I stepped outside, and I locked the door behind me.
“Excuse me,” the man said, trying to get my attention.
“I’m on a coffee break,” I said, slipping my goggles on to shield my eyes from the sun that was a lot higher in the sky than it should have been for that time of day. I felt bad about not letting the man and his kid into the store, but I had a feeling John hadn’t run much of a book-selling business anyway.
And besides, I hadn’t been completely lying to the man. The morning had clearly gotten away from me, and I was in desperate need of some java.
Chapter 38
AS I WALKED along the sidewalk heading for the Moon Dollarz, I entertained myself by trying to explain the concept of coffee to Shadow.
“It’s a magic drink,” I said. “It makes you hyperactive and focused at the same time.”
Shadow cocked his head and looked up at me just as flashing blue and white lights lit up the store window on my right.
When I looked over, Sheriff Boreman was stopped at the curb in one of his cruisers and was motioning for me to join him.
“Miss me?” I said with a forced smile as I walked up to his passenger-side window.
“We got another one,” he said. “You’d better follow me.”
Before I could say anything, he hit his siren once and pulled a tight, three-point turn. I stared longingly at the Moon Dollarz sign, then back at his car as it pulled away.
“This is going to be a terrible afternoon,” I said to Shadow as I made my way into the parking lot toward the Audi.
The Sheriff waited at the exit just long enough for me to catch up before he took off at full speed.
Together, we raced up Claiborne then turned up
Truro Parish Drive with our tires squealing. As I braced myself for another murder scene, I felt a sense of failure that was probably not deserved. It had been my job to keep Ashburn’s human population safe from its supernatural neighbors. I also remembered Rose’s warning about not breaking the rules too often. A sinking dread flowed through me, because I was pretty sure Ahriman was going to notice three human corpses, even though officially, Laura and Marie weren’t really dead.
I followed the Sheriff through an all-way stop sign as we turned into a neighborhood I was all too familiar with. He pulled over next to two other police cruisers at the mouth to one of the walking trails that cut through a patch of thick woods. I stepped out of the car, put Shadow on his leash because there were so many people around, and hurried to catch up with the Sheriff. With each step, the forest surroundings became more and more familiar, until at last we reached the same clearing where Blaire had saved me from the Mendes Goat the night before.
I stayed close to the Sheriff as he cleared a path through the crowd of emergency workers.
“Give us the space for a few minutes,” he said as two of his deputies and a man with a digital camera stepped away.
The Sheriff and I stood over the motionless body that was face down in the grass. And when I saw that the dead guy wore a well-fitted suit, my arm hairs stood straight up.
“We identified him from his wallet—Blaire Howard. Worked for the local HOA. For Oizys.”
“Can I see his face?” I asked. The Sheriff called over two men wearing latex gloves. They set their bags down and finished photographing the dead body before gently turning it onto its back.
When I saw what was left of Blaire’s face, I grimaced and had to force myself not to puke.
“Jesus,” the Sheriff said as he took out a cloth rag and coughed into it.
Blaire’s face had been eaten away, and his mid-section was in tatters. Even though I had to force myself to do so, I bent down and got in close enough that I could see the details of his face. I looked for as long as I could stand, holding my breath, but I didn’t see a single speck of yellow-orange powder anywhere on him. Something had attacked and mutilated Blaire, and the results were savage. That was bad enough, but I was also stressed because whoever or whatever killed Blaire wasn’t the same person or creature that had turned Laura and Marie into zombies. And that meant I had two supernatural killers to look for when I couldn’t even find one.
As I stared at his corpse, Blaire’s wounds didn’t match anything I’d read about to do with Voodoo or even heard of before. I was no expert, but the scene in front of me looked more like a mauling than anything else.
“This is going to sound strange,” I said. “But could you have your men search for hoof prints in the area?”
“Like from a demon or from a goat?” the Sheriff said, his face red with anger.
“Maybe both,” I said, backing away from what was left of Blaire.
The Sheriff followed me, shaking his head and growling.
“I know what you are, John. And I know I’m not in much of a place to make any demands, but you’re the one who has to take care of this. Now, I appreciate that you’re a lot easier to work with lately. I really am thankful for that, but I think you might be losing your edge, too. Normally, you would have taken care of things by now, and I’m getting a little worried. Do I need to be worried?”
“I’ll take care of it,” I said. “Just like I always do.”
Hoping that I sounded more confident than I was, I led Shadow back to the car. I wanted to walk away and lose myself in some music, but I was sure Ahriman’s spell wouldn’t let me do that, so I didn’t even try.
I kept repeating in my head that I wasn’t a detective or a demon enforcer.
I was only a once-famous musician, who was good at writing verses and choruses, and not much else. And that was it. Verse. Chorus. Verse. Chorus. Bridge.
I stopped walking, and Shadow looked up at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
A bridge. That was exactly what I needed—something that linked Laura, Marie, and Blaire. If I had that, I’d have somewhere to start, at least. But unless Blaire got up and joined the ranks of the living dead, I couldn’t think of anything they all had in common.
Except Oizys.
Chapter 39
OIZYS HAD BEEN the one who told me about both Laura’s and Marie’s death, and she’d practically told me she’d done something awful to Blaire. I wanted to find Oizys, grab her by the throat, and make her confess to stealing Laura’s and Marie’s souls. For all I knew, she’d been responsible for Blaire’s death as well, even though that piece didn’t feel right. She certainly wasn’t going to win any awards for boss of the year, but Blaire’s wounds weren’t what I would have expected from her.
I went home and dropped off Shadow at the house. Then I chilled for a few minutes to cool down, hopped back in the car, and decided to follow Oizys until I learned more. That approach had always worked with cheating husbands, so I went back to what I knew and waited for Oizys to show her hand.
After getting back on Claiborne and heading for the Nature Center, I entered the Nature Center parking lot with caution.
With my goggles on, I could clearly see the fiery sigils floating above the building, but more importantly, I saw a pink VW Beetle, with MAKUHRT tags parked up front. I didn’t need to be a demon or a detective to figure that one out. So I parked far away from her car while maintaining a line of sight with her office window.
I felt a little like a peeping Tom as I watched her sitting at her desk, stroking and smiling at the Hummel figurine I’d delivered to Blaire.
I squinted and tried to figure out exactly what she was doing as the doll started to crawl around on her desk like a living creature. With a huge smile, Oizys reached into her top desk drawer and took out a small silver hammer. She tapped it lightly on the doll’s tiny, painted foot, then raised her hammer high, like she was lining up for a Major League swing.
She brought the mallet down directly on top of the figurine’s foot and smashed it to bits.
That was bad enough, but the figurine screeched in pain so loudly I could hear her through the window. With each cry of agony, Oizys’s shoulders relaxed a little more, and her mouth opened into a soft, round shape as she soaked up the tiny statue’s suffering.
The figurine squirmed and tried to get away. But Oizys picked it up, licked the jagged edges where the foot had once been, and dropped the Hummel into her side desk drawer before gently shutting and locking it.
After she sat for a few moments, she stood up, straightened her schoolmarm’s skirt and blouse, then slipped into her suit top and left the office.
I slouched down into the driver’s seat just as Oizys got into her car, revved the engine, and took off.
The last time I’d tailed someone, I’d been in my thirties and following a scrawny little married man who liked to pick up dates downtown. He’d been easy to follow, mainly because he didn’t think anyone knew about his secret life and because he spent most of his energy looking at the women. As I started up the car and pulled back onto Claiborne, I reminded myself that Oizys wasn’t a cheating husband and that she likely had the same heightened powers as me. As I followed her, I stayed far enough back that I was only a dot in her rear-view mirror.
As it turned out, doing that in the suburbs was hard as hell.
Still, she didn’t seem to notice me, and after she turned into a housing subdivision I was unfamiliar with, she pulled up to a curb and parked.
With a spring in her step, she almost bounced her way to the front door of a double-large McMansion and rang the bell. As she waited for someone to answer, I scoped the house with its perfectly kept lawn and shrubs. The full stone facade and the outdoor accent floodlights made my lip curl.
Oizys tapped her foot and rang the doorbell again. When she turned her body, I could see she was holding a paper-sized manila envelope. Maybe it was an HOA violation notice she was hand delivering so she could
soak up the homeowner’s distress in person.
After a minute, a woman opened the door, and just as I’d guessed, Oizys handed her the envelope and waited as she opened it and read the letter within.
Within seconds, the homeowner started gesturing excitedly as Oizys shook her head and grinned. The woman grew more irate, but Oizys clasped her hands together, gave the woman her best fake smile, and shrugged.
I had no idea what the violation was, but Oizys was enjoying the shit out of giving it to the homeowner.
After five minutes of arguing, the woman stepped back into her house and slammed the door. When Oizys turned around, I could’ve seen her wider-than-possible smile from a hundred yards away as I slouched down in my seat, trying to become invisible.
I heard Oizys revving the Miata’s engine before pulling away. I started the car and followed her carefully to another house in the same neighborhood.
The McMansion she parked in front of this time looked pretty much the same as the first one she’d visited. The only real differences were that the new house was at the end of a pipe stem and had a large white rock sitting in its front yard.
I got out of the car and made my way into the strip of dense woods that lined the right side of the pipe stem.
Oizys seemed to be treating the woman who came to the door in a much nicer manner than she had the previous homeowner. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could read the woman’s face. To my surprise, she looked excited to see Oizys, although for the life of me, I couldn’t imagine why anyone would be jazzed to have the HOA demon at their door.
The woman’s excitement soon turned to anxiety, however, as Oizys pointed to the large white rock in front of the woman’s house, shaking her finger at the homeowner like an elementary school teacher.
The woman slouched her narrow shoulders, bowed her head, and nodded. Oizys turned around and left, once again with a big smile on her face, but this one seemed more devious than before.
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