Consumed (Unturned Book 5)

by Rob Cornell

  “I will,” I said. “And I'll make it quick. But you need to tell me how I can find the witches.”

  He made an incoherent string of noises, none of which sounded like an actual word.

  I pointed down at him. “You want me to let you lay here and suffer? I can do that. Like I told your big friend over there. I am not one of the good guys.”

  But he only gave me more wheezes and gurgles.

  I raked my hands through my hair and paced away from him. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.”

  I had to suffer the truth. He was too badly burned. He wouldn't talk. He couldn't talk.

  I turned around and glared down at this pathetic excuse for a human being.

  “This is what happens when you ignorant assholes mess with what you don't understand,” I said. “When you make deals with witches. This is on you. All of this.” I waved my hand in a wide circle to indicate the surrounding carnage. “This is on you.”

  I threw my fist out at my side and called once more on fire. What I conjured up was a more brilliant blue than anything I had before. Even though I had willed it to life, its heat felt like it might actually burn me this time.

  I didn't hold it long enough to find out.

  I turned that bastard into a scorch mark on the floor.

  Chapter Three

  I got into the car smelling like smoke and ashes. My leg was throbbing despite the magic keeping it from totally incapacitating me. I had found some dish towels in the kitchen and had tied one around my leg to keep the blood flow staunched as much as possible, though it had already soaked through and I was going to have an ugly stain on the driver's seat of my Jetta.

  I also had another towel with my consolation prize wrapped in it.

  I slammed the door shut and started the engine.

  “What the hell happened in there?”

  Odi, my apprentice and teenage vampire, sat in the passenger seat gaping at me. He wore a pair of ripped jeans and a Metallica t-shirt under an unbuttoned plaid flannel with the sleeves rolled up. His nest of red hair glistened with whatever kind of product he put in it.

  “Hold this,” I said and tossed him the folded towel. Some blood stained the fabric, not all of it mine.

  “What is it?” He opened up the towel and jerked when he was what was inside. “Dude, it's a freakin' ear.”

  I put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. We were out in Northville, one of the suburbs of Detroit. I hoped I could make it into the city before I passed out from blood loss.

  “Yes,” I said. “It's an ear.”

  Odi scrunched up his face as he folded the bloody ear back up in the towel. “Why?”

  “I didn't get the information I needed. I hope to use that for a vision spell. Hopefully, I'll be able to see far enough into his past to find a clue about where the Maidens are holed up.”

  “So you ripped off a guy's ear?”

  “Relax. He was already dead.” I gritted my teeth as I made a right at the next intersection. “They're all dead.”

  He made a disgusted grunt. “I told you to take me in with you.”

  “You didn't need to see all that.”

  “Like I haven't seen a bunch of burned up guys before. You do know who my mentor is, right?”

  “It's not the aftermath I was worried about. I knew I would have to get…firm.”

  Odi crossed his arms and looked at me like a disappointed grade school teacher. “You mean torture them.”

  I hitched a shoulder and just kept driving.

  “You know, I'm with you on this. All the way. I don't care what we have to do to find them. If you need me to, I'll chew some throats out. Those witches deserve to pay for what they did to Judith.”

  I didn't say anything. We'd had this conversation several times before in the last two months. He was right. I was trying to shield him from the worst of our pursuit. But not so much for his sake. Despite what I told the goons at the restaurant, that I wasn't a good guy, I wanted to be a good guy. But vengeance was dirty business. I didn't want Odi to see how bad I really was. I had a hard enough time accepting it myself.

  When he figured out I had shut down the conversation, Odi sighed and relaxed back into his seat.

  Fresh pain pulsed in my leg, rising above the level of magic I was using. I pushed a little more energy into it, and the pain receded. “Call Elaine,” I said. “Tell her we're coming in hot.”

  “She's not going to appreciate us waking her up in the middle of the night.”

  “I can survive an angry Elaine better than I can all this blood loss.”

  Odi dug his phone out of his pocket and started dialing. “You sure about that?”

  Chapter Four

  Elaine is a large woman with an even larger personality. And while I had to listen to a litany of obscenities in her off-kilter accent, she was a damn good healer. She used some kind of goo to close the hole then patched me up quick and sent me and Odi on our way, slamming the door behind us after I'd barely cleared the threshold.

  Odi and I were supposed to work on his training that night, but I was still feeling weak. I decided to let him play hooky so I could get some sleep.

  “Put the ear in the fridge,” I told him before going upstairs to bed.

  “Gross, dude.”

  I woke up way too early, the sun cutting through my blinds and shining in my face. I rolled onto my side, blinked away the fog across my vision, and checked the clock on the nightstand. Having a vampire for an apprentice meant keeping shit hours. It was only noon, which was like midnight for me on my nocturnal schedule.

  I rolled over, away from the intruding sunlight, and squeezed my eyes shut. I hoped to escape into more sleep, but it wasn't happening. My brain had kicked into high gear. The sight of my mother's still body and all that blood on her kept coming up in the darkness behind my eyelids.

  With a mighty groan, I sat up, scrubbed at my face with my hands, then gouged my knuckles into my eyes to clear out the sleep.

  After a shower and a cup of coffee, I almost felt like the living instead of the walking dead. Although, speaking of the walking dead, Odi never seemed the least bit groggy when he came out of his coffin after dusk. Said coffin sat in my basement. If the sun wouldn't have turned him to dust, I would have gone down there and pounded on the coffin's lid until he woke up to join me. The sleep-deprived loved company.

  Instead, I had an extra cup of coffee, reluctantly put on my duster, and headed out.

  First stop, the mall to get a sensible coat.

  I picked out a light cotton zip-up jacket with a hood. It hung nicely, and didn't go farther than a couple inches below my waist. Nothing to get tangled up in. I left the duster hanging on the rack in the new coat's place. Let someone else deal with that monstrosity.

  From the mall, I drove to the private cemetery on the edge of Detroit that catered to those of us in the paranormal community. I could wind my way through the place with my eyes closed, I'd made the drive to Mom's grave so many times in the last couple months.

  I parked at the edge of the asphalt path nearest her grave, then threaded my way on foot to where she lay. The sod they'd laid over her resting place had already started to blend with the grass around it. A few pre-spring rains had helped it along.

  I knelt at her side. Today the grass was cool and brittle. The first day of spring had technically passed, but Michigan weather was never much bothered by what a calendar said. A steady wind carried the remains of winter on it and made me wish I'd gone with a thicker coat. But for all I knew, tomorrow would end up in the seventies, and I wouldn't need the coat at all.

  I brushed away a thin dust of earth the breeze had blown across my mother's grave stone, which was embedded into the ground and lay flat. I had tried to come up with something good for the engraving. I was no poet, but I thought I'd gotten it right.

  It read, “Beloved wife, devoted mother, and a Light in an otherwise dark world.”

  Tears welled in my eyes as I leaned over to read the engravin
g for the hundredth time, as if I'd forgotten what it said. One tear dripped loose and patted the stone like a single rain drop.

  I wiped my eyes clear with the back of my wrist.

  “I'm sorry, Mom. I'm still trying. But I really messed it up last night.”

  I inhaled the earthy smell around me then slowly sighed. My breath shook as it came out of me. I clamped my jaw. My stomach churned. If those assholes had just stopped, realized they couldn't fight me and win, if they had just answered my damn questions, they'd still be alive, and I would have had a trail to follow.

  But I had fucked up, too. I had underestimated their desire to stay quiet about the Maidens. And I hadn't expected that damn Uzi. They were small-time thugs who had used some magic cooked up by the black witches to help them rob a gods damned bank. The witches must have come across a lot scarier than I had, even with my flaming hand. Who knew what wicked things they'd promised if the men betrayed them?

  “I'm sorry,” I repeated and pressed my palm flat against the stone.

  “Do you believe in an afterlife?”

  I started at the woman's voice behind me. My heart kicked hard as I sprang to my feet and twisted around to face her.

  She wore a powder blue sari wrapped loosely around her body. Her eyes were black, yet shone even with the sun behind the clouds. She had a red bindi on her forehead just above her eyebrows. She kept her hands clasped at her waist like someone in a choir ready to sing a solo. And while she looked perfectly relaxed, the waves of magical energy pouring off her suggested she could throw a spell, and a doozy of one, at a moment's notice.

  One hell of a sorceress stood before me.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  She smiled a kindly smile, the shine in her eyes intensifying. “My name is Urvasi Sabio.” She nodded toward Mom's grave. “I'm a friend of your mother’s.”

  A chill washed through me. I took an involuntary step back. The last time someone had claimed to be a friend of Mom's, he ended up being the ring leader of a conspiracy bent on turning the poorer neighborhoods of Detroit into a vampire feeding ground. And the last time I saw him, I had fed him to a hellhound.

  I had a feeling I wouldn't have such an easy time up against this woman. I could tell just by the feel of her magic that she trumped Markus Hope's power tenfold. She was even more powerful than Mom. I could easily believe she was three centuries old, though she didn't look a day older than sixty.

  “That's nice,” I said. “I'll leave you to pay your respects.”

  She bowed her head. “Most appreciated. But I've come to speak with you.”

  “Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested.”

  She smiled again. She had a nice smile, comforting. Which rankled me, because I didn't want comfort. I didn't want anything from this lady.

  “I understand your reticence,” she said.

  She stood between me and the direct line to my car. I began skirting around her. She followed me with her gaze, but didn't move. Besides, if she wanted to stop me, considering the power she had ready, I wouldn't be going anywhere.

  “I assure you I come at your mother's behest.”

  I tilted my head toward the ground. “In case you didn't notice, she's dead. And, to answer your question, I'm not sure if there's an afterlife. But even if there is, I doubt she's talking to you from the beyond.”

  She laughed. “No. Certainly not. Her request came not long after she recovered from her terrible accident.”

  Less than a year ago, Mom had lived in a nursing home, in a near vegetative state. Barely responsive to even the biggest stimulus. With the help of my alchemist friend, Sly Petrie, I had given her a potion that had finally woken her from her condition. Soon after, I'd learned what happened wasn't exactly an accident.

  But I didn't remember Mom telling me about contacting any old friends once awake. And she hadn't said anything to me about a mysterious Indian woman who might show up out of nowhere.

  “Well, now, that's convenient,” I said. “Considering she isn't here to contradict you.”

  This Urvasi woman said, “After what happened to her, she wanted to make sure things were set in place should anything else go wrong.”

  “What things?”

  “An arrangement for you to continue your training.”

  I stood there with my mouth hanging open for a second. “What?”

  She flashed her motherly smile again and inclined her head. “You are a very young sorcerer, Sebastian. You must realize your apprenticeship is unfinished.”

  “I…”

  With all that had happened three years ago, with Dad's death and Mom mentally checking out, the last thing I had worried about was sorcerer school. Unlike Odi, whose parents had abandoned him at birth, most sorcerers learned from their parents as a natural part of being raised. But Urvasi was right. Even after moving out, even at thirty-two years old, a sorcerer continued studying under their elders. In average mortal terms, I was merely a teenager in my extended life cycle, at least in terms of my magical skills.

  While I thought this all through, Urvasi politely waited. She studied me intently. I didn't know what she was looking for. She could have been gazing into me with a second sight of some kind. The idea made me all squidgy, as if a bunch of spiders had crawled under my collar and down my back.

  I took a few more steps around her, keeping a good eight or nine feet between us.

  “I don't want any part of this.”

  For the first time, she frowned. “Please. You must trust me.”

  “No. I really must not. For all I know, the Maidens of Shadow sent you.”

  Urvasi raised an eyebrow. “Is it common for black witches to send assassins from outside their coven?”

  She knew the answer.

  So did I.

  But that didn't automatically mean I should trust her, or believe anything she had to say.

  “Whoever you are,” I said, “I don't want anything to do with you. So unless you're going to blow me up or something with all that magic you're holding, I'd like to leave now.”

  She glanced down at Mom's tombstone. “The engraving is beautiful. Did you come up with that?”

  “Not really feeling the need for small talk, either.” I tipped an imaginary hat. “I'll be on my way now.”

  I gave her a wide berth as I headed back to my car. I was hesitant to turn my back to her, but I couldn't very well walk backwards the whole way. How slick would that look, me tripping over someone's tombstone like a bad imitation of a Jerry Lewis pratfall?

  When I did turn away, I could feel her gaze on me. Not metaphorically. As I suspected, she was using some alternate vision as she watched me. I could tell by the tingling running up between my shoulder blades. More spiders.

  She didn't follow me, though. By the time I got to my car, the sensation had faded. I looked back and saw her kneeling beside Mom. She had her hands folded as if praying. And I thought I could see her lips moving.

  Weird lady. Even for a sorceress.

  I got in my car and drove away. But I couldn't let go of this feeling that I had left something behind, or I had forgotten to do something.

  I didn't know what, though. So I pushed the feeling aside and continued on my way.

  Chapter Five

  Sly's Smoke Shop was on John R. Road in Hazel Park. I found a parking spot at the curb out front. When I got out of the car, my gaze involuntarily drifted across the street to what was little more than an empty corner lot now, though it used to be a gas station. During a vampire riot late last year, a few vamps had blown the place up, but not before brutally killing a couple people first. I had never seen such random violence from vampires. If they meant to kill, they typically drew their prey into the shadows to feed on them. They didn't play with their food.

  I shook off the memory and went inside.

  I felt a little dizzy when I first entered. Sly's shop had taken some serious damage during the riot as well, and while I had helped with the remodeling at the start, I ha
dn't been over to see it since. I barely recognized the place. The glass counters that had once lined the outside of the space were gone, and new ones formed a square in the center, creating a sort of barrier around whoever manned the register, which faced the door.

  Along the back wall, Sly had set up some bookshelves and a new magazine rack. The shelves had various books facing out with marijuana leaves on their covers. Some were coffee table books apparently devoted to the art of growing weed. Who knew there was such a thing?

  The magazine rack had the usual periodicals Sly had carried before the shop was wrecked. So now he had a veritable library, all focused on pot.

  The other walls deviated from the theme significantly. Paintings, photographs, and a few wall sculptures hung as if in a gallery. I saw little white tags fixed to the wall underneath each. Was he selling art now, too?

  Sly sat behind the register on a high stool. He wore his typical stonewashed jeans and a blousy pink shirt. He had trimmed his gray pony tail down to its usual stubbiness. His gaze was locked on a book he held in his lap.

  Despite the tone the door made when I entered, he didn't look up.

  I stood there a moment, not sure if I should say something, clear my throat, or just wait until he finished his chapter, or what? He would have never treated one of his customers like this, so I had to assume he'd seen me coming through the stretch of plate glass that ran the entire length of his shop.

  I started to feel flushed across my cheeks. This was so awkward.

  Finally, I decided to break the standoff. So I cleared my throat and said, “Hey, Sly.”

  He held up a finger and continued to read for another minute. Then he slapped the book shut and tossed it onto the glass counter. It must have come from his new library. It had the silhouette of a pot leaf on its cover.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Um…” I blew out a long breath, puffing out my cheeks. “Just came to see you.”

  “Oh.” He looked around him. “What do you think of the new place?”

  “It's great. The art on the walls is…different.”