by Sasha White
“You sure it’s okay to ask someone to get clothes for me?” Jack looked uncomfortable.
“Yeah. Breaking and entering is old hat for vamps. They do it when they’re learning how to turn into mist. You’ll have clothes in no time.”
I considered what we were likely heading into, and pulled out some serious weaponry. If the Prince was out of Hell, we were in real trouble. If it was just one of his stronger minions, well, we were still in real trouble. I figured it was better to be prepared, and besides, we had that nice, unmarked yet oh so obvious police car. Plenty of room in the trunk for what I wanted along.
Jack gaped. “What the hell is that thing?”
“Multi-round crossbow.”
“And that?”
“Holy water shooter. Works like a Super Soaker. In principle.”
There was a knock at the door. I went to open it while Jack trotted to the bathroom to get a towel. He still managed to shout a question while doing so. “Holy water, isn’t that supposed to be deadly to undeads?”
I opened the door to find Maurice standing there with a set of men’s clothes. He grimaced. “You are not upholding your end of the bargain.”
“I never said yes.”
“Huh.” Maurice shoved in and handed the clothes to Jack, who was clutching the towel around him. “Really, sweet cheeks, I’m sure I’ve seen something equally as magnificent as what you’re hiding.”
I took the clothes. “Don’t count on it.”
Maurice grinned while Jack blushed for the first time I’d ever seen. “Oh, and as for holy water, if your soul isn’t given to the Prince, holy water can’t hurt you. But unholy water can,” Maurice added as he picked up one of the shooters. “You really think we need these, Vicki?”
“Yeah, I do. I think you and Amanda need to go armed for warlock.”
“Warlock?” Jack asked.
“Well, in your case, armed for bear.”
“Okay. But…I thought you said warlocks were good.”
“Some warlocks, and witches, yeah. Like demons.”
“No,” Maurice corrected. “Demons are like humans – they get a choice.”
“Warlocks and witches get a choice,” I argued.
Maurice rolled his eyes at Jack. “This nuance was never her strong suit. Did she tell you about Changelings?” Jack nodded. “Wonderful. Human children, see into all the planes, taken for their own good. Because of the nature of their existence, they become witches or warlocks under most circumstances. Of course there are some who want to be just like their adoptive families, so they might choose to turn vampire or werewolf or something, but most of them remain on the spell-casting side of the house.”
“I thought you said they were undead,” Jack said to me. “How does that work?”
“Call them differently undead. Rituals and things that turn them into what we are more than what you are.” I sighed. “I’m going to get more weapons while Maurice finishes his lecture. I had no idea you were bucking for a University job,” I tossed over my shoulder.
“You wish,” Maurice replied. “So, that’s how you get a good witch or warlock.”
“Wait,” Jack said. “A lich is a spell-caster, from all I’ve ever heard, which wasn’t a lot. How does that work?”
“Similarly.” Maurice sighed. “It’s nuances, really. A lich is a being who in their pre-undead life was able to become a witch or warlock, but never made the transition for whatever reason. So, they cast spells when they were living, but unknowingly. The bent of their souls determines where they end up. Their interests determine what they do.”
“Monty, for example, is far more interested in running Dirt Corps than casting spells.” Hey, Maurice wasn’t the only one who knew stuff. “It’s one of the reasons we consider witches and warlocks more powerful – a lich has the skills, but rarely the inclination.”
Jack nodded. “I guess I can see that. But some liches cast?”
“Sure. Most of them, at least for fun, just to keep their hands in. But, overall, nothing like witches and warlocks, who are casting magic every day, at minimum.”
“What about the bad ones?” Jack asked.
Maurice shrugged. “The bad ones, well, they’re always humans who have given themselves to the Prince for occult power. Liches as well as witches and warlocks. Some of them are very strong and always scary.”
“Devil worshippers?” I heard Jack ask as I went back to my weapons room and rummaged around. So everything wasn’t perfectly hung or organized or cataloged, or whatever. Werewolves didn’t need a card catalog to find what we wanted, that’s what our noses were for.
“Yes,” Maurice said with a sigh. “But again, Satan’s Yahweh’s servant. He appears to everyone who calls on him, and then explains how things are.”
“Really?” Jack was back to sounding fascinated.
“Yeah.” I came back laden with weapons. “Some, like Martin, catch on.”
“Martin Luther didn’t call on the Devil!”
Maurice and I exchanged a look. “No,” I said slowly. “He didn’t. He did, however, try to banish Satan, and so, essentially, called on him. It was complicated, but I’m sure Martin will be glad to explain once we’ve handled this latest takeover bid by the Supreme Evil One. And all that.”
“I’m just curious,” Jack muttered.
“Anyway,” Maurice went on hurriedly. “The ones who chat with Satan and still want to commit their souls to evil send said souls right to the Prince.”
“Okay.” Jack sounded doubtful. “I don’t get it with demons.”
“Demons, like humans, come from a different plane of existence. If they’re good demons, they support a god and that’s who their soul belongs to, in addition to themselves. If they’re bad demons, their souls go to the Prince.” Maurice looked at me. “Beautiful but dumb?”
“Tired and overwhelmed.” I shook my head. “You’re just so old you’ve forgotten what it was like.”
“Darling,” Maurice said as he swished to the door. “I was so happy to discover I didn’t have to continue to fight in the war and hide from the British, I had no transitional problems whatsoever.”
“Which war?” Jack asked as Maurice opened the door and headed out.
“Revolutionary. Ghastly times, just ghastly. I’ll say this – nothing trumps indoor plumbing and central heat and air, nothing.” With that, the door closed and he was gone.
Chapter 22
I had the weaponry out, but getting it to the car was going to prove a little exciting, since we had to slide back to Prosaic City.
“Seriously, we can both barely carry all this stuff,” Jack protested as I put another crossbow on the stack he was holding. “How’re we going to explain it if we see someone? And do we really need it all or are you just a typical woman and you over-pack for all occasions?”
“Yes, we need it.” Well, we might need it. And better to be prepared. What if the one thing that would stop the Prince was my Evil Fairy Repellent and we didn’t have it with us? I grabbed another can and shoved it under Jack’s arm.
Laden for ancient gods, bear, warlock and potentially the Supreme Evil, I slid us across. Jack impressively didn’t drop anything. He didn’t stop muttering, either, but I let it pass.
The only beings on the top floors of the Prosaic City building were other undercover agents. So waiting for the elevator was no issue. However, we all could and did get human visitors, so being sure the coast was clear was still a necessity. Werewolf senses being what they were, it was easy for me to wait until I knew we had a clear elevator.
We loaded in and I pushed the special button that only those with top floor access had – the Express button. We headed down to the parking garage with no stopping. Once there, however, I had to do the intent sniff and listen thing. There were a lot of human tenants going out and a few coming in. Fortunately there were several elevators and there was another special button for top floor folk – the Door Sealed button.
After holding the elevator
for a long ten minutes, the garage was clear and we headed to the car. Jack dumped the stuff in the trunk and moaned. “I don’t think I can move my arms. Hopefully nothing attacks us until I get the feeling back in my fingers.”
“Give me the keys, I’ll drive.”
He snorted. “No way.”
“I drive well.”
“You drive recklessly.”
“Do not.” Well, not always.
Jack opened the passenger door and waited for me to get in. He wasn’t normally this gentlemanly and I had to figure it wasn’t because we were now an official couple – he just didn’t want me thinking I had a shot at the steering wheel. I gave him a dirty look as I seated myself.
He grinned, closed the door, and got in on the driver’s side. “I’m relieved our working relationship isn’t going to change now that we’re a couple,” he said with a laugh. “Where to?”
As Night Beat detectives, we didn’t have to check in at headquarters if we were in the middle of a case. The Chief would contact us if he needed to, but if we were following something, we had a lot of autonomy.
I activated my wrist-com and decided to throw the Count a bone. “This is W-W-One-Eight-One-Niner.”
“Agent Wolfe, how kind of you to follow procedures. I trust the daylight hours were good to you?”
“Fantastic. What’s our status?”
“Black Angel One has changed shifts with Vs-Seventeen-Seventy-Five and -Six.”
“What did Black Angel One have to say?”
“They shared that their quarry did nothing suspicious, but since they were following orders, they didn’t engage.”
“Fair enough. What else?”
The Count sighed. “A-Fifteen-Forty-Six has conferred and briefed Z-Nineteen-Thirty-Seven and L-Eighteen-Forty-Nine, and they are with V-Nineteen-Sixty.”
“Martin’s staying active on the team?” This didn’t bode well.
The Count sighed. “And here, I thought we were following procedure.”
“Fine, fine, carry on. Who else is with V-One-Nine-Six-Zero?” The Count got to use the shorter number codes, we agents didn’t. I was sure it was because the Count thought the whole numbering thing was ridiculous in the first place, but so far had never gotten him to admit it.
“Also with the group are L-Seven-Ten and HH and DC Sixteen-Oh-Six.”
“No one else?”
“Should there be?”
“I don’t know. I lost count a while back.”
“That remains your problem, not mine, Agent Wolfe.”
“And you wonder why I hate the call letters.” I gave up on the formality. “What about the doppelgängers? Anyone find any or all of them during the day and eliminate our problem?”
“If it were that easy, Agent Wolfe, why would we need you on the case?”
“Fine, where’re Ken and the others actually at, the cemetery?”
“If you already knew, why did you ask?” The Count disconnected. Sometimes he could be a royal pain in the tail.
Jack cleared his throat as he headed us on the fastest path to National Cemetery. “So, first question. Your agent codename – does that stand for werewolf and the year you, ah, undied?”
“Yes.” I was glad we’d done the roll in the sheets thing a couple more times after breakfast. It muted my desire to do the roll and whine thing every time he said something intelligent or did something manly. I hoped it would last through the night.
“So, by that code, and knowing what Maurice said, he’s either V-Seventeen-Seventy-Five or -Six, right?”
“Right. He’s Seventeen-Seventy-Six, Amanda’s Seventy-Five.”
“L is lich, Z is zombie, and HH and DC are, what, hellhound and daemon cat?”
“Yep.”
He was quiet for a few long moments. “Wow. Monty is old.”
“Old, experienced, cagey.”
“I thought he ran his own thing, was dotted line to Necropolis Enforcement.”
“Yes, but he still has a call codename.”
“Rover doesn’t?”
“Rover’s assumed to be with Monty unless otherwise stated. Most white worms are within Dirt Corps. Monty has them assigned whatever codes he wants, I’d assume. Doesn’t matter.”
“Because Dirt Corps isn’t as good as Necropolis Enforcement?”
“No. They do their best. And they come through when you really need them.” Why I felt the need to defend Dirt Corps, I couldn’t say.
Jack smiled. “I’m not dissing them, Vic. It’s just obvious they’re not the elite.”
“True. But Rover doesn’t have a call code and it doesn’t matter because most white worms aren’t going to see a lot of active duty. Monty’s been training Rover for over a thousand years. He’s like Kato.” Prosaic City’s top police dog. Retired now, but still held as the K-9 standard against whom all others would never measure up. “But most white worms are pets.”
Jack mercifully didn’t make a joke. “I guess when you’re an undead you don’t have a lot of pet options.”
“True. For some reason, werewolves and hellhounds find others having dogs as pets somewhat demeaning. Daemon cats and feline familiars feel the same way. Undeads aren’t big on horses – most of us can move faster on our own, and those who can’t usually prefer a smoother form of transportation. And so on. So, yeah, white worms are popular pets.” So were spiders, snakes and bugs, but only with Dirt Corps and their ilk.
“Is it true that animals are afraid of werewolves?”
“When faced with a hungry werewolf? Yeah, they should be afraid. But it’s like zebras and lions. If the lion’s full, the zebras are wary but not panicked. Same concept.”
We reached the cemetery and drove through slowly. It was quite large – Prosaic City wasn’t small, housing several million souls, and the National Cemetery was the main cemetery for the city. It was placed on top of Necropolis’ Evangelical Quarter. I was pretty sure someone on the undead side had influenced that decision. It made the cemetery a much safer place to be than it would have been normally. It also made undead transitions for those interred there easier. Not all humans who died became undeads, but Monty was always looking for talent and really, ghosts created themselves.
Jack’s questions were causing my migraine-inducing double-vision. So I saw a solemn, lovely, well-kept cemetery sitting on top of the roofs of every kind of religious shrine known to human-, undead-, and all otherworldly-kind. If they were a good god still unalive and kicking, they had a shrine in the Evangelical Quarter.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Jack, you need to slow down on the questions. I have to concentrate on our problem at paw. Hand. Whatever.”
“Okay. Is that you concentrating or are you seeing both worlds at the same time again?”
“The latter.”
“Sorry.”
I opened my eyes. Good. I could only see the spires from some of the larger shrines, temples and churches sticking out of the ground. I could also see Ken and the others gathered around the largest tomb in the place.
“It’ll pass. Let’s really focus on the human stuff for right now. Because potentially the Prince and/or a wide variety of his stronger minions are wandering around in the human plane with intent to destroy and conquer.”
Chapter 23
We reached the group and I did a quick nose count. In addition to everyone I was expecting, Black Angel Two was with us as well. I got the impression they’d replaced Martin’s escorts because they gave the impression they were more than willing to exterminate with extreme prejudice should anyone look at him cross-eyed.
“Who’re the chicks?” Jack asked in a low voice.
Great. I knew I didn’t want female angels around him. “Black Angel Two.” I bit the silver bullet, gave them a smile, and made the introductions. “Miriam, Magdalena, this is my partner, Jack.”
They both eyed him. “Externally…I approve,” Miriam said, right before she turned away, presumably to watch Martin’s back.
Magdalena gave him a
longer look. Then she smiled at me. “I think he’s a keeper. If you can keep him alive, that is.”
“Ah, nice to meet you both,” Jack said. Then he sidled away to stand next to Monty and pet Rover.
I followed. “What’s up with you?” I didn’t really want to hear about how hot and awesome Miriam and Magdalena were, but I figured it was better to get it over with now.
“Are all female angels Amazons?” He didn’t make it sound like a good thing.
“Well, no, but when humans become angelic they alter. Not just the wings and all, but there are other changes.”
“Those two were humans? Ever?”
“Yeah. From what I’ve been told, they weren’t quite that hot when they were alive.”
He shook his head. “Define ‘hot’. If you mean scary and emasculating, they’re smokin’. If you mean someone a guy would want to go to bed with, ah, not really.”
I tried to sniff surreptitiously. If someone was telling a whopper of a lie, there were usually telltale signs, and their body odor was one of them. I didn’t smell lying on Jack – I smelled fear. He was afraid of Black Angel Two? I was both pleased and concerned. “Angels are normally considered the most attractive undead species in existence.”
“Really? Well, I’ll be sure to keep an eye on you around Martin and any other male angels.”
“Martin remained pretty much himself. He had the choice.”
“And the two scary chicks didn’t?”
“Um, I think it was more, at the time, when they died, that they wanted to fit in.” I was reaching. I had no idea what Black Angel Two’s mindset had been at the time. They’d died centuries apart and more centuries before me, but over time had worked hard to become one of the two top Angelic Enforcer teams. Considering that Black Angel One had been together far longer, and had died closer together, all things being equal, Two’s rise was very impressive.
“Fit in where?” Jack shuddered.
“With the other angels. And, what’s wrong with you?”
He shook his head. “I grew up thinking angels watched over us. I never want something like that watching over me.”
Miriam was next to us. Angelic thing. One moment there, the next, here. They moved fast, that was all, but it was freaky the first few hundred times it happened. She looked Jack right in the eyes. “You must tread carefully.”