by Rob Cornell
“Odd.” Sly whistled and tossed the destroyed bong into the pile Mom had swept up.
The sound of shattering glass set my teeth on edge, the night spent trapped in Sly’s backroom in the middle of a vampire riot still fresh in my mind.
“That’s more than odd,” he added.
I recounted what the prefect had said to me. Neither of them moved much while I did. Mom kept the broom handle clutched tight. Sly had his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his stonewashed jeans. Their intense focus made me feel self-conscious for some reason, as if I thought they were judging me. But I was probably projecting my own feelings toward myself onto them. I don’t know why it bothered me so much that I now found myself on the Ministry’s official payroll. Was it just pride? I wasn’t really an anti-establishment type. I simply preferred to avoid authority, rather than fight it.
But I sensed a deeper reason for my discomfort with the arrangement. A reason I didn’t want to waste time trying to dig up.
I had let my mind wander even while I was describing my meeting with St. James. I didn’t know how long I stood there, silently, after I finished talking. Sly waved a hand in front of my face, then snapped a couple times.
“You got a contact high from Green’s weed, brother?”
I blinked away my daze and pulled my attention back onto the two of them. “Sorry. The wheels are spinning at triple speed.”
Mom gave me a worried look, which made me feel a little guilty. I didn’t want her worrying about me. She had enough worries of her own to chew on.
“Now what?” Sly asked. “You have a plan for doing the Ministry’s grunt work?”
“The first thing I want to make sure of is that Mom is safe.”
“I’m fine,” she said without any sign that she was otherwise.
I sometimes forgot what a powerhouse she was, both in spirit and as a sorcerer. She would have to be, in order to kill Dad with a single magical stroke. He had been damn powerful himself. Not even a guardian could have taken him down with such apparent ease.
I shoved that line of thought away.
I nodded to her. “I know. But you’ve been through hell lately.” I turned to Sly. “Is there somewhere you can take her, somewhere safe? If the vamps do riot again, I’d rather not have her all alone at the hotel.”
Mom straightened. “Excuse me? You think you can tuck me away in storage while you run the streets chasing after vampires on your own?”
The lingering stink of marijuana wasn’t giving me a contact high, but it had started to turn my stomach. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Really?” She poked Sly with the end of the broom handle, but her gaze stayed on me. “What do you think, Sylvester? Does he mean to have you coddle me while he puts himself in harm’s way?”
Sly’s tired gray pallor gave way to a small blush. “I…uh…”
She frowned at me, the lines around her mouth deeper than usual. A sorcerer’s natural magic stretched the aging process well beyond that of any average mortal. But even her magic couldn’t keep up with the toll all this crap was taking on her psyche. Yes, she was powerful, but she was also human. I couldn’t imagine the agony she must have felt knowing that she had killed the love of her life.
“Stop that,” she said.
“Stop what?”
“Stop feeling sorry for me. Don’t shove me away. Let me help you.”
I glanced at Sly. He took a step back and held his hands out, a clear leave me out of this gesture.
I was about to object again, but stopped myself. Who was I to tell a century-and-a-half-year-old sorcerer what she could or could not handle? My concern for her had clouded my logic. Having her at my side made perfect sense. I would have been a fool to pass up help from a badass like her.
I took a deep breath and got a noseful of stale marijuana smoke. Sly had blamed the smell on Green, but I had no doubt Sly had helped. He just didn’t like to admit his weed habit to me, as if it might tarnish my view of him. Even though I had known he partook of the ganja since I was a kid. I mean, duh, you smell like weed and own a head shop. Besides, he knew I knew. It was a silly throwback to my childhood, but I let him have it.
Anyway, the smell didn’t bother me like it had earlier. My stomach had settled. I even cracked a smile.
“Okay, partner,” I said, “Hand the broom over to Sly, and let’s go dust some vamps.”
She smiled back and held the broom out to Sly.
He took it with a sigh. “Thanks for stealing my helper, brother.”
“Where’s Green?” I asked.
He came awful close to pouting. “Kid quit. Breaks my heart, but after last night, I guess I can’t blame him.”
He tried to sound light about it, but I could hear the genuine disappointment in his voice. “Sorry, man.”
“Forget it.” He waved, brushing aside the issue. “What’s your next move?”
“The Switch,” I said, naming the metro area’s prime supernatural hangout—a bar catering to all types of paranormal beings. Even vampires. “No one has a better grasp of the rumor mill than good ol’ Barry.”
Chapter Fourteen
There was a brewery in Warren that made some of the best beers in the state, maybe even the region. I was particularly fond of their double rye India Pale Ale, or DRIPA. I’d never tasted beer so good anywhere else, though there was one from Great Lakes Brewing that came damn close.
But there was more to the brewery than the beers, at least for those of us within the Detroit area’s paranormal community.
Mom and I parked in the lot of a Catholic church a little ways down the street. It was best not take up parking at the brewery itself since we weren’t actually going inside.
As we walked along the sidewalk, the fall wind carried the scent of coming winter. Assuming I survived the next few months—a prospect that seemed less and less likely the way things were going for me—Thanksgiving would arrive in a blink. The first snow would come sometime between then and Christmas, if it didn’t come earlier. And I would then spend as much time indoors and off the roads as possible until the March thaw.
Snow sucks. If I thought I had any chance of convincing her, I would beg Mom to move somewhere like Southern California, where the only snow you got in the winter came in a globe.
She was too attached to Michigan, though. She had grown up in the state. Her parents had lived and died here. And now her husband, too. Granted, as Ministry scholars, she and Dad had traveled all over the world collecting artifacts, old books, and other mementos of the hidden histories behind cultures both present and forgotten. But home would always be here.
Which meant it would remain that way for me, too. I couldn’t imagine living very far away from her.
The chilly, damp air made my bones feel cold. But at least I had a coat. Mom had yet to buy one after the fire took both of our wardrobes, preferring her sweater. But she looked like she regretted putting it off now. She held her collar pinched closed under her chin, and her lips formed a tight line. I moved in close and put my arm around her as we walked the rest of the way to the brewery.
When we arrived, we crossed through the lot and headed straight toward the alley behind the building. A tall cinderblock wall formed one side of the alley, blocking the view of what lay on the other side. A Dumpster with one of its plastic lids missing emitted a yeasty and dank scent. The brewery’s metal back door was closed. Back here, no one could see us.
Still, I kept watch while Mom pressed a brick in the brewery’s back wall. A second later, the bricks split apart to form an archway. Inside the archway was a wooden door with large iron hinges and a bronze knocker in the shape of a goblin’s head. The goblin had the signature large, pointed ears and hooked nose of his kind, which reminded me of a goblin I had met way back when I first started hunting. The knocker’s ring hung from the goblin’s nose like an oversized piercing.
But Mom didn’t need to use the ring, because the face came to life. Its thick bronze lips curled up in
a smile. “Why Madame Light, what brings a nice sorceress such as yourself to a dump like this?”
I didn’t know if Mom had ever been to the Switch before, but it didn’t surprise me that the knocker knew who she was. The Light name went back several generations in the Midwest. And they were known for both their strength and their kindness.
Before Mom could answer the knocker’s inane question, his blank bronze eyes turned to look at me.
“Oh,” he said. “I should have known. The Unturned.”
“Do not call me that.”
“Whatever. I hope you didn’t come hoping for a drink. They ain’t serving right now.”
I wrinkled my brow. “Why not?”
“Place is a wreck.”
My heart picked up a few extra beats. “What happened?”
“Best you see for yourself.” His face returned to its original expression and solid, immobile bronze.
A dull clunk came from the other side of the door, the sound of the lock sliding open.
I shared a pensive look with Mom.
Then I took the lead, pushed the door open, and went inside.
Chapter Fifteen
Wreck was an understatement. The bar looked hardly recognizable. Nearly every table lay in splinters. Piles of black dust covered the hardwood floor, some of it scattered like windblown sand. Holes of various sizes and shapes littered the walls. I recognized them for what they were—bullet holes. Small ones in clusters from buckshot. Larger ones in jagged rows from automatic weapon fire. And gaping ones from higher caliber rounds.
The smell of cordite and blood filled the room.
The broken tables weren’t the only things on the floor. I counted four clearly dead bodies visible from where I stood just inside the door. Two of them looked human, one with his belly ripped open from what might have been a shotgun blast. The other, a woman, lay spread-eagle on her back, throat sliced clear to her spinal column. The third was a thick-bodied ogre. One shoulder was ripped apart as if a mad animal had chewed through the muscle. A long sword protruded from his breast—probably what had killed him.
Oh, yeah. And his eyes were missing, the empty sockets weeping runnels of blood.
The fourth body…its face was so ravaged, hanging in bloody tatters, that I couldn’t tell what species it might belong to. It had thin limbs with knobby joints and a relatively long neck. None of these features ruled out human, but it could have easily been a reaper or revenant. Or something else entirely.
Beside me, Mom gasped.
While I gaped at the carnage, the door behind me swung shut, the lock clunked home, and I could hear the bricks outside coming back together, the sound like the clatter of falling dominoes.
I stood with my feet welded to the floor, breathing through my mouth to avoid inhaling the stink of death. I kept shaking my head as if I could deny what I saw in front of me long enough to make it all disappear.
Then I thought of Barry, and that snapped me out of my frozen horror.
I waded through the debris and skirted around the eyeless ogre, but paused before I left him behind. I grasped the hilt of the sword piercing his heart. “Sorry, man.” Then I yanked it loose. So much blood dripped off the tip of the blade. I held it out at my side as I made my way to the bar, dribbling a red path along with me.
When I reached the bar, I glanced back at Mom. I expected to find her at the door still. Instead, she stood right behind me. I was about to do that macho stay here where it’s safe bullshit. It was damn hard not to. I had gotten so used to her frail condition over the past three years, her catatonic state that had her living in a nursing home, completely unresponsive. But that wasn’t her anymore. I had to remember that.
She nodded, her eyes fierce. I noticed she had one fist clenched at her side. After a few seconds, I could feel the hum of her magic.
I nodded back, then turned and rounded the bar.
My stomach twisted, expecting to find Barry lying dead behind the bar. When I didn’t, I let out a long breath. Glass shards from the bottles of booze off the shelves on the wall blanketed the floor back here, their contents forming a massive puddle. The smell from all that liquor almost knocked me off my feet. I wondered if I could get drunk only by inhaling all of that.
My eyes watered, and I had to wipe them with the back of my sleeve so I could see. That’s when I noticed the golden glint of spent shell casings scattered among the glass. I imagined someone using the bar for cover during the massive firefight. Maybe Barry. I sure as hell hoped so. And doubly hoped he had made it out okay. If he’d been using silver rounds, he was probably responsible for some of the vamp dust on the floor.
Barry was also a shifter, able to transform into a massive grizzly. If he ran out of bullets, he might have been able to tear up some vamps with his claws, though it would have taken a lot of damage to kill a vampire that way. At the same time, the vamps would have had to deliver some serious damage to take Barry down, too. Even if he couldn’t win the fight, he had a good chance of getting out alive.
But I had one more place to check before I could get my hopes up.
I did my best to walk around the glass without crunching too much under my soles. I loved my boots and did not want to wreck them if I could help it. I also didn’t want to slip in the puddle of booze and fall onto the glass. Then I’d ruin my coat. And probably some of my skin, too, I guess. Gotta love my priorities.
Mom stayed close as we skirted the lake o’ liquor and stepped through the doorway into the back room.
I’d never been back here. I’m not sure many had, besides Barry himself. But I spent no time checking the place out, except to notice the orange floor tiles that Barry lay on.
A hot stone came up the back of my throat and caught there. A cold rush ran over my skin, and I trembled slightly.
“Oh, dear gods,” Mom said so softly I almost didn’t hear her.
Barry’s white button up shirt had little white left to it. Blood soaked most of the fabric. More blood streaked his face like war paint. His torso had at least a dozen oozing gunshot wounds. He had a bite in his neck that I knew had come from a vampire. One leg of his black slacks was shredded all the way up to his hip. And his exposed leg had been flayed to the bone.
I pressed a fist against my mouth.
The savagery was not the worst part, though. The worst part was that he was still alive.
He was curled into a fetal position, facing us. His blood-ringed eyes stared up at me. His breathing came in quick, short hisses through his clenched teeth.
I dropped the sword and hurried over and knelt at his side, ignoring the blood on the floor as it seeped through my pants. Shifters heal fast, but I didn’t think Barry could heal fast enough to make up for such extensive damage. And I had I feeling he had more injuries that I couldn’t see. I couldn’t imagine the pain he was in.
He tried to roll onto his back. I put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving. His body felt like he’d spent a few hours in a freezer.
“Easy, man. Try not to move too much. We’re going to get help.”
Although I didn’t know where the help would come from. It wasn’t like we could call 911 to send an ambulance to the Switch. And I didn’t personally know any magical healers. Truth was, I didn’t think Barry would make it long enough for help to arrive.
Barry shot his hand out and grabbed my forearm. His grip was surprisingly strong considering his condition, but his hand felt as cold as his shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak and ended up coughing instead. A blood mist sprayed off his lips. He clenched his teeth, stifled his coughing, then tried again.
“Vamps,” he said, voice wet and scratchy at the same time.
“I know,” I said.
His grip on my arm tightened. “War.”
Ah, fuck. Not that again.
He must have seen something in my expression he didn’t like. He shook my arm and dug his fingertips into my muscles hard enough that I knew I’d have a bruise later. I didn’t struggle again
st him, though.
“Serious,” he said. “They’ll kill…everyone.”
He clearly knew something I didn’t. Even with so few words, his message made my skin prickle.
“The riots aren’t random acts, are they?”
He slowly shook his head. His grip on my arm went instantly slack, his hand dropped away, and his knuckles rapped the tiles when it landed. “Not all of them.,” he said. “Interrogated a vamp. Before I dusted… Mostly nonsense. But—”
He cringed, and his body spasmed as if from a quick chill. He broke into another bout of coughing.
I felt so damn helpless watching him suffer. I wished I knew how to use my magic to ease his pain at the very least. But that kind of work involved special skills I didn’t have. If I tried, I was more likely to make his heart explode than do any good.
I looked up at Mom. She shook her head.
We both knew there was nothing we could do to help him.
I decided the best thing I could do was get as much info from him as he could stand to give and not let his last efforts before death go wasted.
It took a lot of will to keep from questioning him until after he finished coughing. But the second he did, I was ready.
“But what, Barry? What else did the vamp say?”
He swallowed. “Ministry.”
“I’ll tell them,” I said. “But if you can give me more—”
“No,” he barked. His eyes grew so wide, their whites stood out starkly against the deep red blood around them. “The Ministry needs…”
He went from panicked to limp in a blink. His eyelids fluttered. I was losing him.
“Find the vamps.” He reached for his neck. His fingers scrabbled at his collar. His thumb caught under a chain, and he managed to pull out a silver crucifix about the length of an index finger. His hand dropped, thumb still hooked around the chain, and the crucifix clinked against the tile floor.
He took one deep breath, then went still. His eyes stared at me, lifeless. One breath was all it took to go from living to dead.
I didn’t know Barry on any intimate level. But I had kept regular contact with him as part of my job as a hunter. He seemed to always know something helpful. And when he didn’t, he would offer me a free drink as if he owed me something. But he had never owed me a thing. He just liked me for some reason I would now never know.