Dead Silver

by Max Florschutz

  “What do ya mean?” he asked.

  “Were there any odd scents out where you found her?” I asked, gesturing at the cow in question with my staff. “Something acrid, tangy, like there had been an electrical short?”

  “No,” Felix said, looking honestly puzzled. “Not that I remember. Why?”

  “Magic use leaves a distinct scent.”

  “Are chupacabras magical?”

  “You mean Unusual?” I said, grinning. Then I shrugged. “We don’t really know. Science doesn’t yet have a way of understanding if something is Unusual or not without seeing it in action.”

  “So you think it is then?” Felix asked, pausing with his gloves on.

  “I don’t know,” I said, spreading my hands. “I’ve never actually seen one. I’m hoping I might find out.”

  For a moment, the workshop was silent save for the faint sounds of country music radio; playing so quietly that I hadn’t even noticed it until now. Felix looked at the cow’s carcass again, a look of disgust on his face, then stepped back towards the workbench, his fingers flexing inside the gloves.

  “Well,” he said, as he picked up what looked like an ordinary saws-all from the workbench. “I don’t know much about that sort of thing myself. Magic, Unusuals, the whole lot. It ain’t exactly my thing. I don’t have anything against you folk, mind,” he said, lifting the saw and giving it an experimental pull of the trigger. It gave a sharp, cutting whine as the blade leapt to life, sinking in pitch as his finger left the trigger and the blade slowed to a stop. “I just don’t know much past nothing. Working the mine, taking care of my little hobbies like my cows here, those are my things.”

  “What’s the mine like?” I asked, curious. “Doing well?”

  Felix laughed. “If it was doing well, you think we’d be such a small place?” Then he shrugged, dropping the saws-all to his side. “It’s not bad. It made me enough to own this house and have some hobbies on the side. It’s always been a bit of a gamble, but it’s never given out since I’ve been here.”

  “You a transplant?” I asked.

  “Me? Nah,” Felix said with a shake of his head. “Grew up here. My daddy worked in the mine, so did his daddy before him. He bought the land, my daddy bought the house, and now I’ve got the workshop and the barn both. If things keep going the way they’re going, maybe someday my kids’ll add their own touches to it. Long as the mine doesn’t give out.”

  “Is that a worry?” I asked. Mercury wandered over to my boot, and I crouched down to scratch her behind the ears again.

  “Maybe,” Felix said with a look on his face that suggested he was pragmatic as anything about it. “Mine’s always been a bit of a gamble for everyone, and there’ve been a few rough years here and there. But somehow, we always manage to scrape by.”

  “Sounds tough,” I said. Mercury rolled over, legs askew, and I obliged her, running my hand up and down her warm belly.

  “It can be,” Felix said, shrugging again. “Most of us around here are just used to it. It’s a fact of life in this town. Heck, I remember one summer I spent growing up we ate pretty much nothing but beans and rice we were so short on cash. Then the mine found another vein, and we all ended up okay.”

  “Still,” I said as Mercury let out a content whine, “that’s got to be a little tricky to live with.”

  “We make do,” Felix said. “Ya learn to live within yer’ means when you’re at risk of losing them. But I think things are looking good for the future,” he said, winking.

  “Really?” I said. “What makes you say that?”

  “Just a rumor I heard at work the other day. Word from the office says that the boss put in a few new bids on some land. And since he had a survey crew out here just last week, I think that’s good news for the next few years. Maybe longer.”

  “Glad to hear it,” I said, giving Mercury one last, quick pat. She rolled back over and regarded me for a moment as I rose. I knew what was going through her mind without even needing to use my gift; I could see it in her face. I’d stopped, and she wondered why. “Well, I guess I’ll get something to eat and head back to the motel, see if I can figure out where Rocke is at,” I said, turning my attention towards Felix. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Hey, no problem,” he said, extending one gloved hand, then pulling it back with a chuckle before I could reach for it. “Never mind,” he said with a grin. “Ya don’t want to shake that. Anyway, if you find anything out or need a hand with something, don’t hesitate to stop by.”

  “I will,” I said. “Thanks for the offer. And the information.”

  “No problem,” he said, nodding as he raised the saw. “See you around.”

  I gave him one last nod as I turned and walked out of the workshop, Mercury trotting along at my heels. Behind me, I heard the whine of the saw start up again, sustained this time as Felix went to work on what was left of his cow. I paused as I reached my Rover, glancing over my shoulder as the sound of the saw continued. Then I crouched down by the front of my car and opened myself to my gift once more.

  “Mercury,” I said, and her ears perked up as she heard her name. “Did you smell the place where the cow died?”

  “Yes, yes, I did!” Mercury said back at me. “Lots of smells!”

  “Did any of them smell like this?” I asked, focusing my power and pushing some of it out of me and into my staff. The faint tinge of magic-use filled the air, singeing my nostrils.

  “That smell?” she said. “No. Not that smell. Strong blood smell. Strong blood!”

  “Thanks,” I said, letting my brief burst of power go. It wasn’t quite tiring, but it was a bit like holding my arm straight out for a few minutes. Not draining, but exhausting all the same. “Just the blood smell? Were there any other smells?”

  Mercury thought for a moment, her tail growing still. I could sense her concentrating across our link, putting every particle of her brain to work at the question I’d given her.

  “Strange smells?” she asked at last, her tail wagging again. “Strange scents?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Strange smells or scents.”

  “There was old smell,” Mercury said, her tail wagging with pleasure. I scratched her behind the ears as she continued. “Old smell and blood smell.”

  “What is old smell?” I asked. “Can you show me?”

  I steadied myself as a small rush of impressions leapt into my mind, a confusing mixture of emotions, scents, and sight. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to fix my senses on the one thing I was looking for, the “old scent” she had mentioned.

  And then I found it. A strange, musky, earthen sort of scent, like the kind you got when you walked into an old shack that had been sitting in the sun for a long time and kicked up a cloud of dust. But at the same time, there was an edge to it, a metallic, coppery scent, like the dust had come from old, rusted tools.

  Then I was back in my own reality, the scent gone from my nostrils, the maelstrom of impressions gone. There was a faint, stabbing spike of pain in the middle of my forehead, brought on by my brain trying to process things it had no system in place to understand. I rubbed at it idly with one hand, wincing. It would go away in time, as my brain decided to ignore what it couldn’t process.

  “Thanks,” I told Mercury, who was looking at me with her head cocked to one side, wondering if I was all right. “Good dog.”

  “Yes! I am!” Mercury sent back as I stood up and I let go of the link. She darted back towards the workshop, her tail wagging gleefully at the thought of having helped someone. I couldn’t help but grin a little. Dogs were almost always eager to help, especially once they realized that I could speak to them. Almost. Just like people, some dogs are just jerks.

  My stomach gave another rumble of hunger as I climbed back into my car, and I decided that my next best step would be to get something to eat. It wasn’t exactly dinner time yet, but it couldn’t be considered lunchtime either. And if the continuing growl from my innards was to be believed
, waiting wasn’t going to be much of an option unless I wanted the rumbling to turn into a quake.

  I managed to trace my route back towards the center of town without making any wrong turns, mostly thanks to the water tower, and picked up something to quiet my thundering insides at a local fast food joint. I wolfed it down before I’d even left the parking lot, however, so when I spotted a small grocery store, I stepped in to pick up a few things. There wasn’t any cookware in my room—not even a microwave—but there was a mini-fridge, and with as warm as it was outside, I didn’t think I’d mind cold sandwiches for at least a night.

  A bag of ready-to-eat groceries in the seat next to me, I headed back to The Last Chance, somewhat at a loss for a plan. I hadn’t run into Rocke at any of the attack locations, and neither of the people I’d talked to had seen him that day.

  Which leaves me where? I wondered as I turned my Rover onto the road leading to the motel. How am I supposed to help him catch a chupacabra if he’s not around to let me in on things?

  Maybe he’d come up with a plan on his own. That would explain where he’d been all day, hunting down wherever the chupacabra holed up for the night. Or he’d wandered to the local library and gotten caught up in research.

  Or, I thought with a shake of my head, maybe he just took a walk and got lost. I couldn’t realistically consider that last one. If anything, the first few ideas I’d had were the most likely. With Rocke’s work ethic, if he was caught up trying the catch a chupacabra, he wasn’t going to leave until he was sure he couldn’t pull it off. He might have just decided to walk down to the library. Though if that were the case and he’d decided to leave me hanging, I was going to do my best to “encourage” some desert bugs to take up residence in his car and maybe leave him a few surprises.

  Then again, maybe he’d come back while I’d been gone and was waiting for me at the motel. Although if that’s the case, I considered as I turned onto the highway out of town, The Last Chance faintly visible in the distance, why didn’t he just call my cell?

  The quarter-mile or so to The Last Chance vanished quickly, and before another minute had passed, I had pulled into the lot and come to a stop next to Rocke’s car. I took a cursory glance through the windows as I grabbed the food from my Rover, but it was just as I’d expected. The car was untouched from that morning, and Rocke’s cell phone still sat unclaimed on the crowded passenger seat.

  Grocery bag in hand, I made my way towards my room, pausing to knock on Rocke’s door as I passed. Nothing. Wherever he was, he hadn’t yet come back yet. Or if he had, he wasn’t responding to knocks. Or his phone, since it was still out in his car.

  I retreated to my room, glad to take my boots off and expose myself to some cooler air, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Starting with the chupacabra’s current kill tally.

  I hadn’t had much time to catch up on chupacabra research before I’d left Vermont, but I did remember enough of my old research to know that—barring some major developments in the study of a chupacabra’s diet—no chupacabra would take down a cow. I wasn’t sure how much blood the average cow held, but I was certain it was far more than a chupacabra could hold in its blood sacs.

  And chupacabras don’t hunt in packs, do they? I thought, sinking back down on top of the room’s bed with my hands clasped behind my head. It wasn’t exactly a hammock and my feet hung over the end, but it was comfortable enough. I couldn’t recall anything about chupacabras hunting in packs before. Then again, it had been several years since I’d really read anything on the topic.

  Well, now’s as good a time as any, I thought as I sat back up and searched for the small laptop bag that I’d carried in with my luggage earlier. The room key had come with a small card detailing some of the room’s amenities, the motel’s Wi-Fi password among them. And since I’d hit a dead-end looking for Rocke, spending some time catching up on chupacabra research wouldn’t be a bad idea, especially in light of what I’d learned that day.

  As it turned out, I really hadn’t missed much over the years. There had been some breakthroughs in analyzing their genetics thanks to recent scientific advancements and some interesting footage captured by a few college kids with a cell phone, but when it came to solid, concrete data, it seemed like little had changed. Including, I noted, the observation that chupacabra’s had only ever been known to hunt alone.

  I carried on for quite a while, clicking through various sources and internet forums, trying to dig up as much as I could that was reasonably reliable. There was plenty of fluff to sort through, especially when mainstream news anchors picked up on a story and ran with it or when an anti-Unusual group got involved. I even found one story that was both, and the sheer ridiculousness of it almost made me chuckle. The idea that any magic users—let alone a secret group of them—could be breeding chupacabras as an “evil army of doom” was far-fetched enough that it deserved to be inside some novels I’d read, not plastered across the nightly news.

  Sensationalism aside, there was still a good deal of material to sort through, though quite a bit of it seemed just as far-fetched as the evil chupacabra army. I certainly wasn’t swayed by the questionable looking teen who swore in a YouTube video that his friend had been eaten alive by a pack of chupacabras. It did, however, link me to a very interesting autopsy video by one of the universities that had managed to get their hands on a chupacabra corpse.

  From there I ended up being forwarded to a number of scientific journals. Most wanted a sizeable “donation” before even letting me peek at their research, while the free ones weren’t particularly good at telling me things that I didn’t already know. Given that most of the articles seemed to circle the same few actual studies, I didn’t quite feel like shelling out a few hundred bucks on the odd hope that one of the others would provide new information.

  By the time I set my laptop aside, the sky outside was filling up with brilliant shades of pink and orange, a symphony of colors playing as the sun set. I let out a long yawn and rubbed a hand over my eyes, surprised at how quickly time had flown by.

  I grabbed another sandwich from my mini-fridge and headed out to the parking lot, braving the cooling desert heat long enough to watch the sun set, as well as try Rocke’s door again.

  Nothing. Wherever he’d gone, he still hadn’t come back.

  I sat on the hood of my Rover, leaning back against the cab as the sun slowly sank past the horizon, painting the whole town in brilliant oranges, pinks, and reds. The sky overhead was just losing the last traces of blue, the color slowly warming even as the air began to cool in sharp contrast. This might just be my favorite part of the day so far, I reflected as I sat there eating the last bits of my sandwich. Not too hot; not too cold. Just about perfect for relaxing and contemplating.

  Except … I really didn’t feel like contemplating at the moment. I glanced over at Rocke’s door, a sour feeling once again moving into my stomach.

  If he’s not back by tomorrow afternoon or I haven’t heard from him, I thought as the sun continued its slow slide down the horizon, I might want to go ask the local police for help. I was a little hesitant to involve them. Law enforcement usually wasn’t too fond of a spook being on their turf. Or Unusuals, really. But if Rocke really had gone missing …

  I sighed and gave my shoulders a massive lurch, another yawn slipping out of my mouth as I did. If he is, it’s probably by his own choice.

  I stayed on the hood for a few more minutes, watching the last bits of the sun slip out of view, lighting the desert up like a dusty ocean. Overhead, faint wisps of light began to appear as the sky darkened, almost invisible against the burn of the setting sun but growing clearer as the minutes ticked by.

  I let out a sigh of contentment and sank a little further back against the windshield, momentarily choosing to ignore the day’s events. Instead, I just watched the sky as the colors began to run together, blending then fading to a deep, midnight blue.

  Not bad, I thought as
the last traces of pink slipped away. Not bad at all. I’d seen some pretty spectacular sunsets back home, of course, but with the overgrown woods around my house, it usually meant traveling somewhere. It was nice to be able to just wander out to my car and watch the sun go down.

  I closed my eyes and pushed my senses outward for a moment, curious. Around me, I felt faint pinpricks of life begin to stir, like ripples on a pond. The family of mice I’d felt earlier had moved, probably out looking for food, but I could sense other life signs moving around as well, including one far overhead. Probably an owl or some other bird, circling just on the limits of my senses, prowling for the same mice that were nosing around the back side of the lobby.

  I opened my eyes, pulling my attention back to the physical world, but I could still sense the faint ripples of life all around me, moving and shifting like eddies in an ocean. It was a bit more difficult to tune into with my eyes open, sort of like trying to listen to every note of a symphony while reading a book. Something I could probably alleviate with practice, but I’d never felt the need.

  Of course, my talent wasn’t perfect. Rocke and I had swapped notes once, mostly out of his interest in the similarities between our gifts: My natural affinity for anything living and his talent at finding things that weren’t quite dead. He’d been quite envious at my range and my ability to always be in touch, but he was surprised to learn how easy it was to hide things from my senses unless I really strained to find them. Later on, he’d told me that he’d spent some time trying to make his own sense go “passive” like mine, but he’d eventually given up.

  I hadn’t had much to add to either of the conversations, to be honest. I’m not exactly an expert on Unusuals or the various types of gifts out there. Unlike Rocke’s, my knowledge had never needed to move past my own abilities.

  As my ears adjusted to the quiet of the desert, I became aware of a faint, low hum. A distant, mechanical moan that I could just barely hear. The distant buzz echoed across the quiet parking lot, sounding like a hive of bees that had learned to hum in bass synchrony.