by Sasha White
“No idea. Depends on whether or not Martin thinks they’re clean or not.”
There was a chair in the room. Jack pulled it over, sat in it, and pulled me into his lap. He still had his gun out. I would have protested that this didn’t look professional, but I was too tired and snuggling was so much nicer than standing around waiting.
I leaned my head against his shoulder. He rocked gently. “How long do werewolves live?” he asked softly.
“Until we’re dusted or destroyed. Just like any other undead.”
“How long have you been alive?”
I thought about it. It wasn’t something any but the newer undeads really worried about. “I’m too tired to do the math.”
“What year were you born?”
“As a human, seventeen-ninety-nine. As an undead, eighteen-nineteen.”
“You were twenty when you were, what, bitten?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you’ve been an undead for around two hundred years.”
“Sounds right.”
He kept on rocking. “You don’t look twenty. You don’t look two hundred, either.”
“Yeah, I look late twenties or early thirties, I know. But we age, all undeads age. We just do it at such a slower rate than humans that we seem young forever. But we don’t actually stay that way over the long course of time. Monty’s been alive for over fifteen-hundred years. He’s an old lich. And he looks older than Edgar, for example, who’s a much younger lich.”
“Is that why Monty’s arm fell off?”
“Yeah. And he’s seen a lot of action, too.”
Jack was quiet for a moment. “How can you age, even slowly, and yet still live forever?”
“How do the Gods and Monsters do it? I’m not sure. Maybe we do die, but so far as I know, no undead has ever died from old age. Maybe one will someday, but seeing into the future isn’t a werewolf trait.”
“Do undead ever get tired of living?”
“We call it unliving, and I suppose some do. But in my experience, just like humans, most undeads would like to stay unalive forever. We just have a better shot at it than humans do.”
“Why don’t you make all humans undeads?”
I shrugged, which happily snuggled me closer. “Not everyone can handle it. Not everyone should. Some people would turn minion, and that’s the last thing we need.”
“Minion?”
“Willing servant of the Prince.”
“Ah. Yeah, from what everyone’s said, we don’t want that.”
“Ever.”
“You know anyone who…what, turned?”
I tried to figure out how to answer that without lying, telling the truth, or sounding like I didn’t want to tell him. Even though I didn’t. But I was saved by a group of beings walking in.
Three were tall, black-skinned, and almost too beautiful to behold. Best wings in any plane of existence. Angels, you’d hate them if they weren’t so amazingly perfect. The three here were all male, which was nice for me. I dreaded Jack meeting a female angel. Angels gave vampires a run for the suave, sexy, and devastatingly attractive money, and usually won.
The fourth was also an angel, but he’d been angelicized once he’d died. He was shorter, fair-skinned, with piercing eyes. His wings were white, but that was because angels really didn’t go in for the two-toned look.
Jack and I stood up hurriedly. I tried not to look guilty and failed. Martin excelled at reminding you of your sins, even when he wasn’t trying.
But he gave me a warm smile and a hug. “I’m glad you insisted,” he said as he let me out of his embrace. “We could tell there was something wrong just walking into the building.”
It was kind of a relief to be right. But, manners first. “Martin, this is my human police partner, Jack Wagner.”
Martin put out his hand and shook Jack’s vigorously. “Martin Luther. Very pleased to meet you, young man.”
Jack shot me a look. “The Martin Luther?”
Martin twinkled. “If you mean the founder of the Reformation, yes.”
Jack gaped. “You’re an undead?”
“He’s an angel. Yes, they’re undeads, but as you know, they’re the ones everyone likes.” I shrugged. “What can I say? Yahweh really liked him.”
Martin chuckled. “So I’m told.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we? We’ve got something nasty to banish.”
Chapter 17
“We think the Prince came through a portal,” I told Martin.
He nodded. “I’m not surprised to hear it.”
I gave Martin the high-level version of our night. He was a great listener, all angels were, really. Another reason everyone liked them. The three escort angels listened as attentively as Martin. It was flattering, unless you knew it was just how they were. And then it was still flattering because, well, they were angels.
I finished up and Martin nodded. “What happened to the dead bodies?”
Jack answered. “Ken had Dirt Corps deal with them. He’d checked them all, only two were able to become undeads.”
“Freddy and Sexy Cindy, yeah.” I got a bad feeling. “I need to call Monty.” Did the wrist-com thing. “Where did Dirt Corps dispose of the dead bodies from the fracas?”
“Fracas, nice word. Good to see you expanding your vocabulary.”
“Monty, I’m here with Martin, about to help with an exorcism. A little less levity.”
“You need to learn to relax.”
“Right. Where?”
“They were humans, so Prosaic City National Cemetery. And, to anticipate your next question, the trails led right to where we put them. Oh, the gang’s all here, by the way.”
“All five trails led there?”
“Yes. I checked on Black Angel One. They’re still trailing our drug dealer. He’s still not doing anything suspicious. I mean, for us. He’s out dealing drugs, of course, but that’s not suspicious, in that sense.”
Martin leaned over. “Montague, please ensure no one remotely suspicious comes near the bodies, either over or underground. We’ll need to exhume the bodies when I get back to you, and also perform a cleansing ritual wherever they were. We have traces.”
“Got it.” Monty signed off.
“Traces?” Jack asked.
“Yes.” Martin was back to examining the body.
“Traces of what?” Jack wasn’t going to let this one go.
“Traces of Hell,” Martin said absently. His eyes narrowed. “But…interesting.” He motioned the other angels over. “Thoughts?”
The four angels went into a huddle. Angels have the strongest psychic abilities, so I knew they were talking in their minds only. Which was fine with me. I wasn’t nearly as interested in this as Jack was. For him it was all new. For me it was routine. Scary routine, but still, routine.
“Why wouldn’t Ken be able to spot what you did and Martin has?” Jack asked me quietly.
“He was reading their souls, looking for those who wouldn’t become minions and who’d be able to adapt to the undead lifestyle. Every one of the bodies, dead or alive, reeked at the scene. But our senses of smell were numbed from fighting Slimy, the Ancient Icky One. The problem I have with our living victims here in the hospital is that they still smell like they just came out of Slimy’s tummy, with some extra added stink that wasn’t there in the alley. They’ve been cleaned, worked on, given fluids, everything. They should smell of antiseptic, if nothing else. And they don’t.”
“No,” Martin agreed, coming out of the holy huddle. “They smell of the Prince. But….”
“But?” I hated it when one of the big guys did that whole drag it out thing. It always boded, and never well.
“But I don’t think the Prince is in them,” Martin said. “I’m not convinced he ever was.”
“So, no exorcism?” Not a disappointment. I wanted to go to bed and exorcisms tended to be long and showy, though supposedly Martin could do it fast if he had to. He just didn�
�t like to, and you didn’t argue with an angel in his position unless you really felt you had to. And I currently didn’t feel I’d be able to work up the energy necessary to get him to go for an Exorcism Lite.
Martin sighed. “No, we have to exorcise, just in case. But the odds are it’s a waste of time.”
“Why go to the trouble?” Jack asked. “I mean, what’s the point? You can’t be the only exorcist.”
“I’m not,” Martin agreed. “And while it would be a good guess that Victoria would call me in on this, I find it hard to come up with a reason for why.”
“Diversion.” Everyone looked at me. Interesting. I wasn’t used to angels looking surprised. “What? We had five trails that led on a wild ghoul chase that all ended at the same spot in the cemetery. We have six people who we have to exorcise, just in case. Potentially an entire cemetery to cleanse, just to be safe. And while we’re dealing with all of this, one person’s wandering free, dealing in his own way.”
“You think the Prince is in Tomio?” Jack asked.
“No idea. But he’s the one who sauntered out of here without a real problem.”
Martin gave a start. “I missed that before. That’s right, one was here.” He nodded to the three escort angels and they sauntered out of the room. “They’re looking for evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” Jack asked.
Martin opened his mouth, but I answered faster. “Proof that Tomio visited each of the other victims before he left the hospital. Evidence that he planted the Prince’s trace in them. Or proof that he didn’t.”
Martin closed his mouth and beamed at me. “You really are an excellent agent, Victoria. And, yes, that’s exactly what they’re looking for.”
“Black Angel One is watching Tomio,” Jack protested. “Wouldn’t they be able to, I don’t know, tell if he was really the Prince?”
A thought slunk up and nuzzled the back of my mind. “Yeah, but not if what Amanda honed in on wasn’t actually the real Tomio.”
Martin looked at me. “Oh dear.”
“Oh dear?” Jack looked back and forth between me and Martin. “Oh dear what?”
I figured I’d beat Martin to this one, too. “Oh dear, we have a doppelgänger on the loose.”
Chapter 18
We all looked at each other. Martin and I exchanged the “we’re so screwed” look. Jack just looked confused. “So, Tomio has a twin?”
Martin shook his head. “A doppelgänger isn’t a twin. It’s a facsimile.”
“Always evil,” I added. “They’re also called a fetch. As in, they fetch whatever their master wants, which is usually the soul of the person being duplicated.”
“But why would the Prince need to fetch Tomio’s soul?” Jack asked. “I mean, the guy’s a drug dealer. If there’s anyone who’s probably already sold his soul to the first bidder, it’d be him.”
“Maybe,” Martin said mildly. “But men can do much evil before they lose their souls. Many do evil in Yahweh’s name, or the name of another god. And yet, they still remain on our side of the great battle.”
I let this one run in my mind. “So, let’s say Tomio was like everyone else in that alley – either a cop or a petty criminal. I mean, it’s not like someone dealing in an Old Downtown alley is exactly livin’ the dream.”
Jack nodded. “Too true. I ran his file while you were in the hospital – typical dealer. Rap sheet longer than your tail but nothing anyone outside of the Vice Squad would be interested in.”
“You’re adapting to this so well.” I tried to keep the sarcasm at bay, but didn’t succeed if Jack’s grin was an indication. “Okay, so let’s assume he still had his soul. Why would he be the one picked?”
“Perhaps his was the strongest soul,” Martin offered.
“Maybe he was the easiest mark,” Jack countered.
I thought about this. Not like a cop, not like an Enforcer. Not even like an undead. I thought about it like a woman. Slimy or the Prince or whatever had made this decision had specific types to pick from – cops, hookers, bums, junkies, and one dealer. None of these would automatically be considered a pure soul.
“In my experience,” I said slowly, “strength of soul is something you can never judge from outward appearances.”
Martin nodded, reached out, took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. I could see that Jack noted this, but happily he didn’t ask about it. “Yes, Victoria, you’re correct. What are you thinking?”
It was a polite thing angels did – they could read your mind if they were close enough to you physically, but they didn’t unless they felt they had to, for your protection or the protection of others. So, even though he could just take a look-see, Martin didn’t. If you wanted to meet the epitome of self-control, you wanted to meet an angel. Yet another reason everyone loved them.
“Well, I’m thinking that we can’t bet either way that Tomio was either the strongest or the weakest soul. In fact, I’d guess he wasn’t better or worse than at least half of the victims. So the question is, why him, over anyone else?”
“He was healthier?” Martin didn’t sound like he thought this was a good guess.
“Better wardrobe?” Jack didn’t sound like he was trying.
I thought about the types of people in the alley. It was a good bet they knew each other. The cops probably knew them, they were street cops working that section of town on the Night Beat. They knew all their denizens. So, why Anthony Tomio as the doppelgänger of choice, over anyone else?
“What does Tomio have that none of the others have?” I asked.
“More money?” Jack shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like any dealer doesn’t probably make more than the police.”
“And poor hookers don’t exactly meet the better johns.” I thought about Sexy Cindy’s comment – that she’d get to go to school where the rich johns lived. It was a safe bet neither she nor Freddy had ever been there before. A good bet no one in that alley had ever been uptown, other than the junkies, possibly, before they went into full addiction.
I thought about what I’d seen of Tomio. He was mixed race, normal looking, one of those people who could blend in easily as long as he was wearing the right clothes. Unlike the others, he didn’t look like anything much good or bad. He looked average.
It clicked. “He was two things the others weren’t.”
“And that would be?” Jack sounded impatient. He wasn’t normally impatient. I took a close look. He looked as tired as I felt. I forgave the snap.
“He’s the one who was the most normal, so the most likely to be able to go anywhere and blend in, and he’s also the one who has the biggest network of people he knows or know of him.”
“How is a drug dealer normal? And what would his network of drug addicts matter? Couldn’t evil find them without a problem?”
Martin nodded slowly. “That makes sense, Victoria.”
I could tell Jack wasn’t convinced, angelic approval or no. “Cops radiate authority, no matter how they’re dressed or where they are. Hookers radiate whatever it is hookers radiate, and the cheaper ones pretty much stand out the moment they leave the crap parts of town. Bums and junkies, same thing, and people see them and radiate away from them. In fact, people tend to try to get away from all four types unless they’re a john looking for a quickie, and that doesn’t make up the majority of the population.”
Realization dawned on Jack’s face. “But people search a dealer out. And if you don’t know he’s a dealer or a criminal, if he’s just walking down the street, he looks like a regular guy, no one to avoid.”
“And dealers don’t always work just one part of town. For all we know, last night was just Tomio’s day to do his Old Downtown route. And dealers have a large network of people they deal through and with, let alone meet. After all, you can’t sell the drugs unless you have a buyer, and the more buyers the better.”
“Tomio’s file indicated he wasn’t a user,” Jack added.
“So, not as close to the Prince.”
Martin looked thoughtful. “That also makes sense.”
“How so?”
“If, as you suggested, this is all being done to distract us and allow Mister Tomio’s doppelgänger free run in Prosaic City and Necropolis both, choosing a vessel none of us would have had our eyes on makes sense.”
“True that.” I thought some more. “There were five trails, six victims who are supposed to recover, and three bums, two hookers, and two junkies who didn’t make it and also didn’t make the leap over to the undead world.”
“That’s eighteen,” Martin said. He sounded worried. Because he was a wise being.
Jack looked at Martin’s expression then back to me. “Am I guessing right? You both think there are eighteen doppelgängers out there, wandering around?”
I nodded as I activated my wrist-com. “Count?”
“Agent Wolfe. We’re not using standard procedure why?”
“Because you know who it is and I don’t have time for my call letters. I need two things. First, an All Being Alert – we have, potentially, nineteen Anthony Tomio’s wandering around, and all of them need to be apprehended with extreme prejudice and more care.”
The Count sighed. “May I run this by H.P. and Edgar before I panic the entire community?”
Martin leaned in. “I’m sorry, Vladimir, but no.”
“Ah, Martin, didn’t realize you were still with Agent Wolfe. Your will and all that. What was the other issue, Agent Wolfe?”
“I need H.P. and the newest recruits assigned to me as soon as possible. I’d like to keep Edgar along as well.”
“May I ask why?”
“H.P. and Edgar because of what we’re dealing with. Freddy and Sexy Cindy because they were in the alley, in Slimy’s stomach, and around for the entire ordeal, and yet they were clean enough to be changed. Either Ken’s lost it, which I doubt, or the two strongest souls in that alley are now on our side. I want them with me so I can use them to spot the Prince or his minions or whatever it is that’s wandering around my cities right now.”
“Not to sound argumentative, but why do you think they’ll be able to help?”
I sighed. I hated having to give this answer, but it was the truth. “I just feel that they will be.”