Fade (Paxton Locke Book 1)

by Daniel Humphreys

  “The only deceit I picked up was when he told me that he was going to take it easy.”

  “So?”

  Valentine snorted. “Kid should be in traction.” He gave Eliot a grave look. “I think he’s got more than the compulsion and the ghost thing. You saw the size of those familiars.” He shrugged. “Even healthy, three on one? No way. They would have stomped his ass into the ground.”

  Eliot frowned. “Healing, you think?”

  “Unless I miss my guess, yeah. A bunch of broken bones didn’t faze him one bit.”

  The other man cursed under his breath. “We should have interrogated the mother when we had the chance.” He looked at Valentine, who just shrugged and spread his hands. “I got a message from Morgan. She and her team swept the house and the cars. No sign of the grimoire, although they did ping to something mystical.” He dug his phone out and pulled up a picture. “They found these scratched into the floor of the basement.”

  Valentine glanced at the picture. “The X-Men logo, so what?” Eliot frowned, puzzled. “Wait, you’re serious? Comic books, movies?”

  The other agent just shrugged and continued. “Be that as it may, Morgan says they show signs of use as a sigil. Similar, perhaps, to the purpose of the one under his mother’s bed.”

  “Ahh,” Valentine leaned back in his seat. “Interesting. So, are they Helen’s, or the boy’s?”

  “No way to tell.”

  The other man stared at the hospital. “I could go back inside. Have another conversation.”

  Eliot snorted. “The Director would have kittens if he knew we’d gone as far as we have. But I definitely think we can push this as a reason to keep observing him.” He shrugged. “Besides, the top priority is the mother.”

  “Now. Finally.”

  Eliot sighed. “You’re fighting the last war. Everyone knows you were right. We should have sanctioned her ten years ago. There, you happy?”

  Valentine crossed his arms. “No.” He cocked his head to one side, then favored his partner with a faint smile. “Maybe just a little.”

  Eliot put the car in gear. “All right then. Let’s go find us a witch, and you can shoot her a couple of dozen times.”

  Chapter 21

  By the time that I ate breakfast on my second day in the hospital, I was starting to feel a bit more myself, though my ribs still stood out. As another milestone, when the CNA whisked the breakfast dishes away I realized that I wasn’t so tired that I needed to pass out. A quick scan of the available television channels found little worth watching. Inspiration struck. After I cadged a phone book from the nurse’s station, I settled down to trying to make my time here at least somewhat productive.

  True to his word, the Sheriff had gotten the ball rolling on insurance. It was still a process, but I had nothing if not time. It also eased things a bit that my bank and insurance were local, so they were quickly able to confirm my bona fides with a local call.

  As I sat on hold it occurred to me that it was going to be much more difficult to replace my driver’s license. I could order it via a website, but the state would only mail it to my address of record — in Arizona. The hospital had computers in the waiting area I could use since my laptop went up with the RV, but that didn’t fix the main issue. It would be a little on the difficult side to get a car or plane ticket without a license. I could always wait for Kent to mail it here, but I didn’t feel like sticking around that long. Even if I did, the Sheriff had made his feelings on that matter crystal clear.

  After my bank promised me that they’d have new cards on hold at the main branch in the next day or so, I hung up the phone and daydreamed about using the push on a TSA agent so I could hop a plane. I mean, sure, it would kind of break my self-imposed rules, but how much fun would it be doing the “not the droids you’re looking for” bit to a feckless government employee?

  Another visitor interrupted my serious moral quandary. From what the nurses had told me, Cassie had been around, but I still hadn’t been conscious for one of her visits. Maybe part of me had been keeping myself awake after breakfast in hope that she’d show up, but I wasn’t that lucky, though her dad came close.

  “Hey, Mike,” I said as Cassie’s dad stepped inside my room and settled down into the chair next to my bed. “How have you been?”

  Mike looked tired as he gave me a look over the tops of his glasses. “Son, if you ever live to a day when you have children, perhaps you will understand how I’ve been. The only saving grace was the fact that the danger my daughter was in ended before I even knew she was in danger, but I’m sure you can fathom how I’ve been, these past thirty-six hours or so if you think on it.”

  I rocked back a bit. I hadn’t expected his verbal onslaught, though it was understandable. For a moment, I busied myself with the controls, raising the mattress up a bit for more back support. All throughout, Mike kept up that same look. It was the expression look he adopted in his shop classes when one of the students took a shortcut or did something monumentally stupid.

  “Well, in my defense, I did what I could to keep her safe. And I didn’t know she’d be walking into the situation. I didn’t know anyone else was going to walk into it, Mike.”

  “Boy, you look like ten miles of bad road.” He sighed heavily. “But I will admit that Cassie is fine. In that regard, I guess you definitely took on something for her, to look as rough as you do.” He frowned. “Though she won’t tell me much about it. But she’ll at least tell me more than the Sheriff will.”

  Guardian angels, I thought but remained silent. We sat there for a long moment, staring at one another.

  “Good grief, it’s like trying to get something out of Patrick,” Mike exclaimed. The reference to my dad made me smile despite myself. The other man ran his fingers through his air and continued. “I never did care much for your mom, to tell the truth, but your daddy would just shrug and give me that same old smirk when I tried to talk to him about it. When he made a promise, by God, he was going to keep it.”

  “I promised Cassie it was going to be all right. I wasn’t sure if it was true, at the time, but I was sure going to do whatever I could to make sure it was.”

  Mike snorted. “Kids.” I opened my mouth, but he raised a hand to keep me silent. “I know, I know, you’re a legal adult, but you’re still a kid to this old man.” He frowned at me for a long moment. “Cassie’s had a rough time, these past few years.”

  I debated on how to respond to that, then finally said, “I guess I know a little about that.”

  “She’s so damn smart, but she always just bounced back and forth. I guess I always figured, one day she would find something, and she’d settle into it, and it would be all right.” My puzzlement must have shown because he laughed before he continued. “I guess what I’m saying is, just how much of what they said about your mom on the news was true, Paxton?”

  I turned the question over in my head, trying to decide how best to couch my answer, but then I saw the look on his face. Mike Hatcher wasn’t looking for a comfortable answer. He wanted to know. It was a strange feeling for me. The people that I’ve let into my world have been there most often because of circumstance — Kent, Esteban and his family, and my clientele. Mike was seeking the truth. To shortchange that in any way would be a betrayal of one of the only people in this world that I knew my dad had trusted.

  “The better question,” I said finally, “is how much of what my mother said on the stand was true.”

  “And?”

  “Everything after it got weird was absolutely true.”

  He sat there and blinked a few times. “And why would she tell the truth?”

  “Because I made her.”

  “You made her,” he said, incredulous.

  “I cast a spell that made her tell the truth.”

  He settled back into his seat. “You cast a spell.”

  I shrugged. “It is what it is, Mike. Mother got her hands on some weird stuff. Everything that’s happened after, even what happ
ened the other night, has all been fallout from what she brought home.”

  He leaned forward and fixed me with a fierce glare. “And my daughter. Did you do it to her, too?”

  Now it was my turn to blink. “Did I—” At first I didn’t take his meaning, but as realization dawned, I brought a hand up to cover my mouth. “God, no, Mike. I would never do that.” The implication of it would have been a personal insult if I hadn’t been so shocked with how he’d laid it out.

  His ferocity eased. “Good. Good.” He leaned back. “I just needed to know whose child you were. Patrick’s, or Helen’s.”

  “I’m both,” I pointed out, in a moment of absolute idiocy. “But I guess you could say I’ve spent the last decade of my life doing my best to make Mother very, very disappointed in me.”

  Mike laughed. With that, he brought me back to barbecues and Brewers games. My dad had never had a brother, but Mike had been his best friend and the closest thing to an uncle I’d ever known. I laughed, too, though there was a tinge of sadness there, as well.

  “You’re a good egg, kid.” Cassie’s dad stood up to leave. “To tell the truth I’m still not entirely sure if you’re dealing from a full deck, but I trust you. I trust Patrick Locke’s son.”

  “I appreciate that. It’s good to know that I’m not the only one who remembers him.”

  He smiled. “Oh, I do. And I miss him every damn day. Get better. My daughter said she’d stop by this afternoon.”

  After lunch, I dozed a bit more. I’d done all the work I could do from a phone. Replacing the things that I’d lost in the fire was going to take actually getting out of bed. I still felt as unsteady as a drunk on a bender every time I made the trek to the bathroom. I could have used a bedpan, but there are some indignities one can do without.

  As the day drew toward a close, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I had a harder time resting. I’d had no shortage of company since I’d been here, but I’d yet to be awake for the person I wanted to see most of all.

  Then, at just a little after five, she walked through the door. I clicked off the television that I’d already been ignoring for the most part and tried to keep the stupid smile off of my face.

  “About time you woke up,” Cassie said as she plopped down in the chair and favored me with a smile of her own. She held up a plastic bag with a familiar logo and I raised an eyebrow in appreciation.

  “I had a rough day, sue me,” I replied as I accepted the bag. “How are you feeling? And thanks for the Taco Bell, it’s my favorite.”

  She touched her stomach without looking and replied, “Great, actually. Which is pretty astonishing considering the condition of my shirt and pants. How did you—” she drew herself up short and shook her head. “Magic, I know. Still trying to wrap my head around things.”

  “I’m pretty much the same,” I admitted. “Until then I’d never tried doing that to use it on anyone other than myself. It, uh, takes a bit out of you.” I unwrapped a taco and took a bite. Sure, it was terrible for me, but since I could actually use the calories I wasn’t going to give myself too hard a time.

  Cassie chewed on her lower lip for a moment, then said, “So have you figured out what you’re going to do next?”

  I balled up the wrapper and replied, “Paperwork is going to be a nightmare. I need to replace my license, bank cards, find a new RV . . .” A thought occurred and I mused, “Man, I hope some kid hasn’t stumbled across the shotguns. We left them out there, didn’t we?”

  “The Sheriff has them, so I guess you just need to get them from there. Your motor home didn’t burn all the way back, too, so I guess the fire department was able to salvage your motorcycle.”

  “Well, that’s something at least. Sorry about your car.”

  She shrugged. “Insurance. I’m driving dad’s old truck until the check comes in and I figure out what I want to do.”

  “As for me, after that, I don’t know. I made a promise to a friend, so I guess I’m heading out west.” I considered telling her about seeing Mother before passing out on the gurney, but I didn’t want to give her any more grief than I already had. “After that, I’ve got as many plans as I ever do, I suppose.”

  “So, that’s just it? You go back to rambling and I, what? Stay here, working at Target?” Cassie huffed a laugh.

  “I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat,” I murmured. “Go back to school, Cassie. Have a life.”

  “So, what, I’m just supposed to act like nothing happened? I’m supposed to walk around and wonder if every chick giving me the stink eye is a member of your mom’s glee club?” She shuddered. “I heard Melanie on the phone while you were out, Paxton. I know she wasn’t the only one. Are you going to do something about the rest of them?”

  I ate another taco to give myself some time to compose my thoughts, then answered, “Probably, yeah. It’s not like the FBI or some local yokel can handle them. Especially if they have the same sort of minions that Melanie had.”

  “And when and if you get the crap beaten out of you again?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I did all right.”

  “With my help,” she pointed out.

  “What are you saying, exactly?” The intensity of Mike’s visit was starting to make a lot more sense all of a sudden, but I wanted to hear it from her.

  “Let me work with you. Teach me to do what you can do.”

  I can’t say that I’m entirely unhappy with the prospect, but my path is a dangerous one. I know what I’m walking into. But then again, Cassie was an innocent bystander. Same goes for Bobby and his family, too. That didn’t protect them. Who am I to stop someone who’s walking into a situation with eyes that are, for the most part, open to the truth? “All right,” I agreed. “Sidekick?”

  “Sidekick, hell. I want you to teach me to protect myself.” Cassie drew her face into a serious cast. “It’s all well and good when you come rushing in to save the day, but you can’t be everywhere at once. At least give me enough for a fighting chance if I run into something like this ever again.”

  I shrugged as I considered the concept. “This wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence, just so you know.” I thought about the light shining down on us and added, “And if I’m being completely honest, it wasn’t anything I did that saved that day.”

  On top of the fact that what defeated the Edimmu sure seemed like without a doubt divine intervention, I’m not entirely sure what she expected me to teach her. The extent of my knowledge consisted of the whopping four spells I found in the grimoire during my initial grieving period after my father’s death.

  When you’re a teenager presented with a magic book, it makes sense that you’d look for certain things. The restoration spell, in my misguided attempt to be able to bring him back to life. The spell that allows me to speak to ghosts, because I wanted to find and talk to my dad. Invisibility, to hide from the press that would have hounded me endlessly if I hadn’t been able to avoid them. The telekinesis spell was the last one I learned before seeing the first part of what mother was up to and deciding to burn the grimoire, and that one was just a stupid accident fueled by my desire for a drink of all things.

  A whopping four spells in my metaphysical arsenal doesn’t exactly make me Gandalf the Gray. Well, five, with the push.

  But . . . I’ve always known in the back of my mind that there might be a way, haven’t I? I don’t know if it will work or not, but if Cassie wants to learn, if some things can never be truly destroyed, as the Edie taunted, shouldn’t I do whatever I can to help stop it?

  Shouldn’t I be willing to use all the tools I can get my hands on, for the greater good?

  Just so long as you don’t look at Cassie as one of those tools, I thought suddenly, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. In the Middle Ages, when you felt such a chill you’d remark that someone had just walked over your grave. This hadn’t felt so much like that as it had a pair of lips whispering directly in my ear. It took everything I had to not look over my
shoulder, even though I knew for certain I wouldn’t see anything.

  I sighed. “All right. But I this is going to be anything but exciting at first,” I warned. “Until I get out of the hospital you’re going to be a glorified gopher. Still interested?”

  “Absolutely. And quit hogging all the tacos.”

  Chapter 22

  A week after the ambulance carried my unconscious body to the hospital, the doctors finally surrendered and allowed me to leave.

  Even then there was a caveat — they insisted on rolling me out to the curb. As soon as the orderly got me out of the sliding doors I almost jumped out of the wheelchair. For the last few days, I’d built my strength back up to the point where I had been able to supplement my own metabolism with a bit of mystical oomph. The remnants of the injuries Uno, Dos, and Trace had wrought were finally gone. I still had a vague sense of underlying fatigue, but it far more bearable without the constant reminder of the beatings I’d taken.

  I opened the passenger door of the new-to-me RV idling at the curb and pulled myself up into the passenger seat. Cassie grinned at me. “You ready?”

  “Been there for a while,” I agreed and jauntily pointed toward the exit. “Let’s get out of here.”

  As promised, Cassie’s first few days as my newly hired associate had consisted mainly of running around and taking care of business. True to her word, she hadn’t complained a bit.

  I felt a little less guilty about the payments I’d taken from delusional customers — it had certainly made replacing things a bit easier for Cassie, who had gone on a bit of a shopping spree with my newly-minted bank card. It hadn’t made a dent toward a full replacement of my setup, but I had time.

  The Class-C Thor was much newer and nicer than I preferred, but it had a rack on the back for my Kawasaki, more gizmos than you could shake a stick at, and separate beds.

  It would do.

  “So, where to?” Cassie asked as she pulled the Thor out of the hospital parking lot. I’d suggested she try and get familiar with it over the past few days. She was handling it well so far. If anything, it had more get up and go than my old one had.