Pay Dirt (Lost Falls Book 2)

by Chris Underwood

  “Is that what you found?” I asked.

  She shot a look about the diner. It was before midday, which meant the place was pretty much dead. Most of the folks that know about Ollie’s place are night owls. A local charm dealer I didn’t much care for was nursing a hangover with the hair of the dog, and over in the corner there were a couple of folks who looked human enough until you spent too long looking into their cold, unblinking eyes.

  “Not here,” Lilian muttered. “I’ll show you on the way.”

  All right, she had my interest.

  We went out to my van and set off. I’d looked at a few maps before I left to remind myself where Stuckey’s museum was. He didn’t have a website, but I thought I could probably find the place. It was about fifteen minutes outside the town proper, across the river and up toward the hills.

  “So, uh, how are you doing?” I asked as I drove.

  “I’m not going to tear your flesh from your bones, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Good to know. Out of curiosity, do you think that’s going to remain your position long-term?”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw her lick her lips. She wasn’t smiling.

  “Nothing lasts, Ozzy,” she said softly. “You know that.”

  “Not like you to be so morose.”

  She shook her head, put a small smile on her face. “Sorry. I’m just tired. The ritual took a lot out of me.”

  “Can’t imagine why.” I hesitated, then reached over and grabbed her hand. Her skin was warm. Alive, or so it seemed. An illusion, maybe. I could probably find out with a little magic of my own. I chose not to. “Look, you know whatever happens, I’m here, right? And so is Alcaraz. She’s a grumpy old bat, but she likes you. Early too.”

  As I spoke Early’s name, the unease I’d been trying to suppress pushed itself to the forefront of my mind. I kept picturing the old man as a headless corpse, like Habi. Holden might’ve once been like a brother to me, but Early was like a father. If I lost him too…

  “You’re worried, huh?” Lilian said. “About Early?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “He’ll be all right. He’s tougher than he looks.”

  I nodded again, then changed the subject to try to distract myself. “So what did you find?”

  She unfolded the photocopies, smoothing them out on her lap. “Had to dig around a bit. I finally got my hands on this. It’s unsigned, so I don’t know who wrote it. Someone with good handwriting. Anyway, listen to this. ‘Here follows an account of the terrors inflicted by the man known as Morley the Profane, and his murder at the hands of those he had terrorized. This is likely to be the only such account in existence. Steps are being taken to erase the name and deeds of the Profane so that others of his nature are thwarted in their retaliation. Already my memories of the events are fading, swallowed by a fog that creeps through my mind. I alone among my peers believe that it is both foolish and impossible to wipe away the stain that the Profane has left over this town.’ ” Lilian paused and looked up at me.

  “Color me intrigued,” I said. “So what else does this person have to say?”

  “Some of the details are sketchy. The author blames it on this spell they’re talking about. They say it’s hard to fix anything to do with Morley in their mind. But I’ve pieced together a few things.”

  “Like?”

  “Like it seems this Morley the Profane was a witch-finder.”

  For a moment, my van seemed a little colder. Witch-finders again. This Morley might have been long dead, but there wasn’t a member of Lost Falls’ supernatural community that didn’t tremble a little at the thought of the witch-finders. They were a threat that hung over all of us. The bogeyman’s bogeyman. The freaks and weirdos that lived here—me included—relied on darkness and deception to keep us safe. The witch-finders were an ever-present threat to that. If they were to discover us, they would drive us out into the light. Into the fire.

  “It looks like he was from some sort of off-shoot sect,” Lilian said. “Sounds like he was some kind of radical. He was a big fan of using Strangers and forbidden magic to achieve his goals.”

  “The Profane,” I said, finally understanding the title. Witch-finders are generally a puritanical bunch. Zealous. Clever. They don’t mess around with the things they’re trying to destroy. If this Morley guy really was using forbidden magic against us, well, it’d explain the nickname.

  “Sounds like Morley and his retinue uncovered evidence of our community here,” Lilian said. “I’m guessing this was in the late 1800s, maybe early twentieth century. So he comes and he starts turning Lost Falls upside down. Kidnapping suspected Strangers, hunting down witches, seizing artifacts, and torturing anyone he can get his hands on for information. Pretty soon the whole community’s afraid to go out. They start turning on each other as well, suspecting Morley had made some of them into spies.”

  “Hell.”

  “Yeah. Apparently there were rumors Morley was using some kind of captive Stranger as a bloodhound. Once that thing got your scent you were pretty much done for.”

  “So what happened? You said they killed him.”

  She nodded and flipped the page. “Morley was on the brink of crushing the whole community. Not that it was much of a community in those days. Every now and then someone would make an attempt on his life, but every time he slipped away. No one could catch him—not the vampires, not the witches, nobody.

  “So they formed a group. The first conclave. The letter doesn’t name them, but it says there were four of them. A handful of the more powerful Strangers and casters in town came together and plotted to murder the Profane.”

  Lilian flipped to the second photocopy as I drove us across the bridge out of town. Water rushed below us, the recent rainfall making the river swollen and angry.

  “How’d they pull it off?” I asked.

  “One of them was a seer. The conclave spent a week gathering up local wildlife, and then in one night they slaughtered them all. Deer, birds, rats, whatever they could catch. A sacrifice to open the seer’s third eye. She looked into the Profane’s soul and found his weakness.”

  “What was it?”

  “His daughter.”

  Something tightened in my chest. “I don’t think I like where this story is going.”

  She tapped the paper. “They mention a name. Sigrid. Morley kept her existence his most closely guarded secret. He couldn’t bear to be too far from her, so when he came to Lost Falls he set her up in a miner’s village a few miles away. He took precautions. He thought she’d be safe.”

  “But the conclave found her.”

  Lilian nodded. “They tracked her down. Dismantled the wards Morley had set to protect her. It was one of the vampires that got to her in the end. The vampire charmed her way into the house, killed the guards. And drank from the girl. Made her into a swain to bring her under the conclave’s control.”

  That uneasy feeling in my chest grew stronger. “And when they had her…”

  “They had Morley. They used the girl as bait. Set an ambush. When he came, they butchered him and everyone he’d brought with him.”

  “The town is saved. Hooray.” I shook my head. “What did they do with the girl?”

  “She probably ended up a thrall serving the vampires. But Morley’s death didn’t end things.”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “Looks like Morley had some sort of death curse in place. The families of the conclave started dying. And then so did other members of the community. Apparently it even started to affect the Unaware. It was like the Profane’s persecution all over again, except this time they couldn’t even put a name to the killer. It took some powerful magic to suppress the curse. They ended up having to seal Morley’s body and those of his retinue into a tomb along with all the forbidden artifacts they’d seized over the years. They covered the whole place in magical protections to try to contain the curse. And then, to top it all off, they started to erase eve
ry remnant of the Profane. They tried to scrub him from history. Ensuring that no more of his kind would think to come looking for him.” She looked up. “Guess it worked.”

  “Yeah. Until now, maybe.”

  “What?”

  “I think some really stupid folks found Morley’s tomb. And I think they tried to open it.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “No,” I said. “No it isn’t.”

  It was all starting to come together. It must’ve been Morley’s tomb that Habi found deep in some abandoned mine shaft. He and Holden and the rest of their team probably had no idea just what they were unleashing when they cracked the wards that protected the tomb. Now they were likely either dead or running for their lives, praying that whatever they’d released would pass them by.

  Except they weren’t the only ones in danger. This curse, or whatever the hell it was, might be going after Holden and Ursula and the rest of them now, but what would happen after it caught up with them all? Would it fade and disappear? Or would it keep going, keep hunting? Perhaps some fragment of Morley’s malicious soul was wrapped up in it, driving it. If that was the case, none of us was safe.

  “How much do you know about wraiths?” I asked.

  She frowned. “Not much more than you, I imagine. Alcaraz might be more help, but I don’t think she ever managed to capture one. They’re pretty rare, and hard to trap. Why?”

  “Just a hunch. Couple of weird things that keep popping up.” I shook my head. “Maybe I’m wrong.”

  “Wraiths don’t occur naturally. It takes some pretty significant magic to create one. And even if someone does pull it off, they dissipate quickly. Their form is too fragile. That’s why they’re rare.”

  “If you could fix one to the world, though, give it a focus…”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

  “I can think of a couple of ways.” I mulled it over as I drove, recalling old lore from yellowed manuscripts. With luck I wouldn’t need it. But I’d learned not to depend on luck. “If I’m right, if there’s a wraith involved, how do I kill it?”

  “Beats me. I think wraiths are pretty idiosyncratic. They’re a reflection of their creator. What hurts one wraith might just tickle another.”

  “Well, that’s just great.”

  I scanned the winding road ahead of us. We were well outside town now, heading down an empty riverside road. Every now and then I’d catch a glimpse of some old faded sign or a hilly clearing and I’d get the feeling I was on the right track.

  And then I saw it. A wide, ugly old building set back from the road, the timber faded by wind and sun, the windows dirty and dark. The sign that’d been washed out when I was a kid was now almost unreadable. But this was it. This was the place.

  “We’re here,” I said, nodding at the museum.

  I drove on past, scanning the place without slowing down. The sign hanging outside the door read Closed. The parking lot was empty, but as we passed I caught a glimpse of a dusty black SUV parked around the side of the building. Behind one of the filth-caked windows I thought I saw something moving.

  “One on the roof,” Lilian said. “Male. Human.”

  “Was it Early?”

  She shook her head. “Looked more like a guard. I didn’t recognize him.”

  “Maybe one of Early’s newcomers. He look friendly?”

  “Not really.”

  “Didn’t think so.” I continued driving until we were out of sight of the museum, then I found a place to pull over where the trees would partially obscure my van from anyone passing by. I unbuckled my seat belt and looked at Lilian.

  “You sure you’re up to this?” I asked, studying her.

  She set her jaw. “I’ll manage” She jerked her head back toward the museum. “You think Early is in there?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s the best lead we’ve got.”

  She nodded. “All right, boss. How do you want to do this?”

  16

  I’d known Early long enough to have a pretty good feel for his methods. He’s not an all-guns-blazing kinda guy. My guess was that he’d come out here to the museum, taken the lay of the land, and then gone in to have a chat with whoever these newcomers were. He’d have wanted to puzzle out their motives and work out if they were a threat to the town.

  That approach, it was fairly safe to say, had not gone well for him. At best, they’d insisted the old man stick around a while longer. And at worst…well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

  I wasn’t going to make the same mistake. As far as I was concerned, these guys were officially designated Bad News until proved otherwise.

  Lilian and I lay on our bellies on a rise overlooking the rear of Stuckey’s mining museum. The earth was damp beneath us, and overhead the leaves of the bent trees kept the sun from warming us. I kept thinking I could feel something slithering past my ankles, but I didn’t dare move too much. It’d been a hell of an effort creeping up here, and I didn’t want to waste it by attracting the attention of the museum’s occupants.

  Our vantage point gave us a pretty good view of the rear of the museum. Here, the illusion of a century-old general store fell away to make room for electrical boxes and trash cans and a back door that looked like it belonged in an alley behind a Chinese restaurant.

  The central section of the building was two stories tall, with a peaked roof. On either side of that central shape were two single-story wings that stretched out to fill the property.

  Beside the dusty SUV, another vehicle was parked up behind the museum, covered in a blue tarpaulin. The plastic shivered in the breeze.

  “Could be Early’s pick-up under that tarp,” I whispered to Lilian.

  She eyed it, then shrugged. “Could be anything.”

  “Those tire tracks are fresh. It was moved there recently.”

  “If you say so.” She sounded dubious. She probably had a right to be. I was clutching at straws here.

  Now that we were up here, I could see the guard on the roof Lilian had mentioned on our drive-by. He was a pretty ordinary-looking guy: medium height, medium build, clean-shaved, a neat haircut. He sat on a folding chair on the left wing of the museum, peering past the museum’s facade toward the road. Across his lap was a blanket-wrapped bundle. It didn’t do a very good job of disguising the rifle inside.

  Whoever these guys were, they weren’t fucking around.

  In the time we’d been watching the museum I’d seen more movement in the windows. Roof Guy’s buddies, I assumed. How many were in there? Three? Four? More?

  “Gotta assume they’re all armed,” I said.

  Lilian nodded. “Can’t rule out any magical bullshit either.”

  I chewed my lip. The air felt thick and humid against my skin. Sweat prickled at my temples. This was stupid. Dangerous. We didn’t know who these guys were, or what they were capable of.

  But what choice did I have?

  “I have to get inside,” I said. “I have to find out if the old man’s in there.”

  Lilian nodded again. Her mouth formed a tight line. “All right. What’s the plan, hot shot?”

  “Give me a second. It’s still percolating.” I licked my lips and studied the slope ahead of us that led down to the rear of the museum. There was a low wooden fence that marked the edge of the property. We’d be able to jump it easy enough, provided the guard on the roof didn’t decide to turn back and glance in our direction.

  I reached into one of my pockets and pulled out an old talisman of mine. It was made of sticks and tied with kikimora hair and fashioned into the crude shape of a man. A marble hung in the center of the stick man’s chest. Focusing, I held up the talisman. The marble didn’t move.

  “I can’t detect any wards protecting the place,” I said.

  “That’s something, at least.” Lilian nodded at the sentry on the roof. “Can you take him out somehow?”

  “I could try and shoot him.”

  “Probably not th
e stealthiest option,” she said.

  “Probably not,” I agreed.

  “Can’t you magic him somehow?”

  I shook my head. “Not unless you can figure out a way for me to bottle some of his piss.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “You haven’t got any other tricks in that bag of yours?”

  “Let’s save the big guns for when we really need them.” I started rummaging through my bag. “But I do have something that might help. Put this around your neck.”

  I held out a loop of twine. Five small glass bottles were tied to the twine, and inside each wax-sealed bottle was a rolled-up slip of parchment.

  Lilian looked dubious as she took it. “What’s it do?”

  “You remember that door to Likho’s chamber we found in the Mines a few months ago? The one we couldn’t see? This works on the same principle. With a little luck, it’ll keep the sentry’s eyes from being able to focus on you.”

  She slipped it over her head, then turned to me. “Am I invisible?”

  My eyes unfocused a little as I looked at her. I was having trouble picking out her features. My gaze wanted to slide off her to focus on the woods behind. But I could still see her.

  “Not by a long shot,” I said.

  She looked disappointed. “What kind of lousy wizard are you?”

  Ignoring the barb, I gestured to the sentry. “Try to keep your distance from him. Stay in shadow, if possible. And if he looks at you, freeze.”

  “I’m not reassured.” She nodded at me. “What about you?”

  I flipped up my collar and began to button up my coat. “Already covered.”

  Among the many protections sewn into the lining and pockets of my coat were a number of charms of similar design to the necklace I’d given Lilian. When I buttoned up my coat, they formed a circle of charms running around my chest. It was kind of like an electrical circuit being completed.

  Lilian blinked a couple of times as she stared at me, and I saw her fighting the urge to turn her eyes away from me.

  “Get the picture?” I asked.

  She nodded. “This won’t do much to hide us once we’re inside.”