Dead Silver

by Max Florschutz

  “Not that I know of, but I haven’t checked recently,” I admitted. “Plural?”

  “Yeah,” Rocke said, rubbing his head with one hand again and closing his eyes. “You talked with Felix. There’s no way a single chupacabra could drain all that blood.”

  “No,” I agreed. “So you think it’s a group?”

  “I’m not sure,” Rocke said, shaking his head. “I’ve only seen the one, but one couldn’t drain the Felix’s cows. Maybe they’re operating in a pack.” He gave me a shrug. “Just one more reason to catch them.”

  “Before they start going after someone else’s animals,” I said. “Depending on how long those wards you put up will last.”

  “They should run for a while,” he said, a self-confident smile creeping onto his face. “I’m no expert with runes, but we should have another day or two until they wear off completely.”

  “What did they do, anyway?” I asked.

  “Just a basic shielding ward,” Rocke said, thumbing the controls to his bed and sitting up once more. “It disrupts energy flows. Anything that’s around the size of a chupacabra that isn’t written into the rune will just get a nice deterrent the closer it gets. Nice and uncomfortable, even if you aren’t an Unusual.”

  “The goats didn’t seem to like it when I tapped it.”

  “Yeah, they freaked out when I was etching it, too. I wasn’t sure why.”

  “It was the smell,” I said, thinking back on what the goats had told me. “They didn’t like the smell of magic at all.”

  “Huh,” Rocke said, his brows knitting underneath the gauze. “That’s odd.”

  “Come to think of it,” I said, “neither did Felix’s dog. When we found you in that cave, she reacted the same way.” I frowned. “You didn’t try to use magic to get out, did you?”

  “I … I don’t know,” Rocke said, his eyes staring right through his blanket. “I thought I smelled magic, but at the same time I was nauseous when I woke up, so I might have been hallucinating from the concussion. I guess it’s possible I could have been trying to scratch runes into the chair.”

  I nodded. It was as good an explanation as anything else we’d seen, unless there was a magic user out to get Rocke. If that was the case, why hadn’t they just done him in?

  “So, any ideas?” I asked.

  “None,” Rocke said, his shoulders slumping as he leaned back against his bed. “Believe me, if I had any, I’d have told you the moment you arrived. You and those cops. I don’t know who knocked me out, or why. They left my wallet, my keys … Crud, I don’t even think they searched me.”

  “Did the cops mention David Jefferson?” I asked, and Rocke nodded. “Did they say anything else?”

  “Only that they’d already decided I probably wasn’t an accessory to his disappearance,” Rocke said. “Aside from that and a minor gripe that his wife wasn’t letting them investigate the case, nothing.” He let out a sigh. “Have you heard anything about that at all?”

  “Only that he disappeared the same night you did,” I said. Then I shook my head. “And that the local sheriff has an intense dislike of Unusuals.” Rocke gave me a curious look, one eyebrow dropping low enough to appear from behind its protective gauze covering.

  “How intense?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Enough that I wouldn’t plan on you walking out of here without possibly going straight into a holding cell. He’s convinced you had something to do with Jefferson’s disappearance. He was here this morning, trying to push his way past a nurse to get to you,” I said, watching Rocke’s face erupt in surprise at the revelation. “He pretty wanted to wake you up, question you, and then arrest you.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Without a warrant.”

  Rocke’s eyes widened for a moment, his expression almost disbelieving. “You are serious. Dang. What’s this guy got against Unusuals?”

  “No idea,” I admitted. “Even after he confronted me in the parking lot.”

  “Does anyone else seem surprised by this?” Rocke asked, his eyes narrowing.

  I thought about it for a moment, than nodded. “You know, now that you mention it, the nurse this morning seemed to be reasonably surprised by his behavior.”

  “How so?” Rocke asked. I could hear the shift in his voice. He was in full blown analysis mode.

  “Well, she said that she went to the same church but had never seen him act like that. She was actually pretty upset by it.”

  “And they have to have some Unusuals in this town,” Rocke said, voicing the thought I’d already had. “This place only has around nine-thousand people, but that’s more than enough for a few Unusuals to pop up.”

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  Rocke shook his head once more, wincing again as the motion caught up with him. “I don’t know. If the sheriff is this vocal about it but it’s coming as a surprise to people, he might be using his dislike of Unusuals as a cover for something else.”

  “You think he’s involved in Jefferson’s disappearance?” I said, my eyebrows going up a little.

  “No,” Rocke said with a small shake of his head. “No, if he was, he wouldn’t be pushing so hard. The last thing he’d want is to draw attention that could come back to bite him. Besides, he’s a sheriff. I know law authorities can be crooked, but that crooked? Plus, if it is him, what’s his motive?”

  “Wanting to pin it on you?” I suggested. Rocke shook his head again.

  “That doesn’t make sense either. That can’t be it.” He let out a sigh, flopping back on his bed. “Fregging headache. Makes it hard to think.”

  For a moment, the room was quiet save for the hiss of the air conditioning. Rocke stared at the ceiling, concentration written on his face. I glanced behind me, checking the time on the room’s clock. It was almost one in the afternoon.

  “All right,” Rocke said, his eyes snapping back to me. “Here’s what you need to do. I’d do it myself, but I don’t think they’re going to let me out. First, bring me my phone.”

  “Anything else with that?” I asked, but Rocke shook his head.

  “No, my phone should do for now. I can use the hospital’s Wi-Fi to start researching some stuff. He shifted on his bed. “Second, go check on each of my clients and make sure everything is still good, that they haven’t had any problems. We should still have a few more days before those runes go dead, and even though that should be plenty of time for us to figure out what to do next, I want you to check on them, anyway. While you’re there, ask them about the sheriff. See if this Unusual hatred is new or something that most people know about.”

  “What about you?” I asked, nodding.

  “Well, I’m not supposed to fall back asleep now that I’m awake, so I’m going to see what I can dig up online about the sheriff, figure out if he’s going to be a problem or not. After that?” He shrugged. “Assuming we don’t have to worry about the sheriff or Jefferson’s disappearance, and that I get out of here as quickly as possible, I say we catch ourselves a chupacabra.”

  “Still?” I asked in surprise. He nodded.

  “Of course.”

  “Even with someone possibly trying to kill you.”

  “Whoever they are, they didn’t do a very good job.”

  “And you don’t have any idea why or when they might try again? What if they do?”

  He gave me a shrug. “Do you know how many times I’ve almost died in the last ten years, Hawke?” he asked, his face calm. “Fifteen. At least. I stopped counting after a while. To be honest, I’m not even sure this was supposed to kill me.”

  “But—”

  “No, hear me out, Hawke,” he said, raising a hand. “If I got nervous or overly cautious every time I almost died, I’d be out of a job. Besides, the more I think about it, the more I think that this wasn’t attempted murder. Why beat me and leave? It doesn’t make sense, so until it does, I’m going to keep doing what I was doing and see what happens.”

  “And see if som
eone tries to kill you again?”

  He nodded with a smile, like I was finally getting it. “Exactly. If they really want me dead, they’ll try again. Only now I’ll be ready. And if I wasn’t supposed to die out there and I never know? Well, that works too.”

  For a moment all I could do was stare at him with an expression of incredulous disbelief. His words seemed almost too calm to be real, and I halfway expected that his concussion might be responsible.

  But no, I could see the honesty in his expression, tired and battered as he was. He meant what he’d said. He’d almost died, he had no idea why, and he was just going to keep right on working like nothing had ever happened.

  “All right,” I said, nodding. “I understand. I’ll meet you back here after I get done talking with everyone?”

  “Yeah,” Rocke said. “If they’ve lost any animals, we’ll need to figure out how. Mrs. Salas should know if anyone has. Did you find my map when you got my phone?”

  “I did, but I’ve got a better one,” I said, smiling as I thought of the map I’d gotten from Henderson’s secretary.

  “Okay, bring that with you when you come back. We’re going to catch these things one way or another.”

  “You’ve got a plan?”

  Rocke grinned. “Always, Hawke. Always.”

  * * *

  “Oh, Mr. Decroux!” Mrs. Salas exclaimed, her smile wide enough that a dentist probably could have given her a full check-up with a glance. “Come in! Adelante!” She waved me in the front door, assorted succulent fruit smells sweeping over me as I entered her home.

  “You’re just in time,” she said, shutting the door behind me and stepping towards the kitchen. “I’m just finishing up another batch of preserves. How’s work going with the chupacabra?” she asked, the word rolling off her lips much more naturally than it did mine. “Did you find Mr. Rocke yet?” I followed her into the kitchen, where the island counter was once again filled with glass jars, both empty and full. I took a deep sniff, my mouth watering almost immediately. Peaches and strawberries, along with a few others I couldn’t identify.

  “Actually, I did,” I said, taking a seat on one of the stools as she waved me towards it. I’d barely gotten settled before a glass of water and a slice of bread appeared in front of me. “He’s actually in the hospital at the moment,” I offered, watching her reaction.

  If I’d been expecting any signs of panic or remorse, Mrs. Salas didn’t deliver. Instead, her face erupted with almost motherly concern as she let out a rapid string of Spanish that thankfully ended in English.

  “What happened?” she asked, her lips pursed together with worry. “Was he in an accident?”

  “We’re not really sure,” I admitted. “I found him in a cave out in south end of the valley, dehydrated and hurt.”

  “My goodness! Is he going to be all right?” she asked, her hands already back at the bubbling mixture on the stove where the delicious smells originated.

  “I think so,” I said. “He’s already giving me orders on catching the chupacabra, so I think it’s safe to say he’ll recover.” I decided not to mention that he’d been tied up and beaten. If she knew anything about it, there was a chance she might let something slip if I stayed quiet. If not, I didn’t want to unduly alarm her.

  “Well, if you’re going to see him, I’ll send a jar of preserves with you,” she said, smiling as she spooned a thick, goopy mixture out of the steaming pot and into one of the bottles. “And you say you found him in a cave south of here?”

  “A ways south,” I said. “Felix Bayou helped.”

  “Oh, Felix helped you?” Mrs. Salas said, smiling. “He’s a good neighbor. I’ll have to take him some jam sometime, too, or something for that dog of his. It’s a shame about his cows.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, nodding. I decided it was time to switch topics. I leaned forward on my elbows and I picked up the slice of bread she’d given me. It was light and fluffy under my fingers, and I tore off a small piece with my fingers. “So Rocke and I were both wondering, are there any Unusuals here in Silver Dreams?”

  “Like yourselves?” she asked, looking up from her work, her brown eyes sparkling.

  “Yeah, like us, I guess,” I said, offering her a shrug as I tossed the first chunk of bread into my mouth, my eyes widening as I bit down on the piece of white, fluffy deliciousness. Even after I’d partially compacted it with my fingers, I imagined it was what biting into a cloud would have been like.

  “Ah, you like it!” Mrs. Salas said. I nodded quickly, and her smile widened. “I’ll have to send a loaf with you then.” She set her spoon aside and turned towards one of the cupboards. I made a half-hearted protest, but she waved her hand at me as she pulled a full loaf of homemade bread out.

  “Just be sure you share some with Mr. Rocke,” she said, placing the loaf inside a paper bag and setting it in front of me on the counter. “Anyway, Unusuals like you?”

  “Yeah,” I said, or at least as close as I could come with my mouth full of home-baked goodness.

  “Si, we have a few,” she said, somehow managing to perfectly deposit scoops of preserves into a jar while keeping eye contact with me. “Nothing like you and Rocke, though. Just little stuff. There’s a niña in town who can always find something if she loses it, and I think that one of men who works at the grocery store can make a ball of light on the tip of his finger but it wears him out.”

  “Are they the only ones?” I asked.

  “I think so,” she said, her hands slowing. “Why?”

  “Just checking on something,” I said, stuffing another piece of bread into my mouth to dodge her question. “Also, I ran into the sheriff the other day. What do you know about him?”

  “The sheriff?” For a moment she paused, a thoughtful look on her face, then she resumed working. “I’ve never spoken with him, actually. I know he’s been the sheriff as long as I’ve lived here, but that’s hardly a surprise. After all, he’s doing a good job. Why would we want anyone else?”

  “Has he ever had a lot to deal with?” I asked.

  Again her fingers slowed as a thoughtful look crossed her face. She shook her head.

  “Not that I’ve heard of,” she said as the steady slurp and clink of her work began again. “There was a big drug bust a few years ago that he was probably part of, but I don’t really keep track of those things. Why?”

  I gave her a shrug and did my best to make it look like I’d just been curious, the last of my bread vanishing into my mouth, but her interrogating look didn’t let up.

  “I’ve just run into him a few times now and was wondering what you thought of him,” I said, trying to cover up my prying. “You seem to know quite a bit about the town, so I figured I’d ask.”

  “You boys aren’t running into trouble with the law, are you?” Mrs. Salas asked, suspicion clear on her face.

  “No, no,” I said, shaking my head and doing my best to appear innocent. Blast Rocke for sending me out to do this in the first place. I wasn’t an investigator like him. “We’re just pretty sure that Sheriff Hanks doesn’t like either of us much.” I gave her a wry shrug, hoping she’d accept my understated version of events.

  Thankfully, whatever I had done, she bought my explanation. She turned back to her preserves, no longer smiling quite as brightly, but not nearly as suspicious as she had been just a moment earlier.

  “Well, he’s probably just doing his job,” she said, another jar filling under her expert care. “Just making sure you two are legitimate, and not hustlers trying to make some fast money.”

  Right, I thought as I took a sip of the water she’d offered. If that was Hanks’ only reason for the way he was treating us, then he was probably the least socially skilled individual I’d ever met. And that was counting the psychotic stalker of a necromancer who’d once casually discussed cutting me up and using me as parts for her next horror show.

  “Well, I can assure you that we’re as legitimate as they come,” I said, my glass
letting out a faint clink as I set it back down on the counter. “Speaking of which, have you had any more troubles since Rocke put up that rune of his?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Should I?”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” I said, pausing to take another sip of water that turned into a gulp. It’s the heat, I told myself as I set the glass back down. I’m not quite used to it yet.

  “He told me it should last another few days before it wears out,” I said. “We’re hoping to have caught the chupacabra by then.” I glanced out at the goat pen through the kitchen windows. “On that note, I should probably check to make sure everything’s good here and with the rest of Rocke’s clients, let them know that things will be fine for a few more days, since Rocke’s back.” I stood, picking up my glass and draining the last bit of water from it.

  “All right,” Mrs. Salas said, picking up the bag of bread with one hand and pushing it into my hands. “You save some of that for Mr. Rocke, claro? And tell him I’ll have more for him when he gets better.”

  “I will,” I said, as I stepped for the back door. “Thank you, Mrs. Salas. You have an excellent day.”

  “Si, tu tambien!”

  I spent a few minutes checking the backyard, but nothing had changed since the last time I’d been there. The goats still greeted me with cries for food, changing their tune with “bad smell” only when I checked that Rocke’s rune was still intact.

  I considered asking the goats about whether they had seen anything recently, but given the limited vocabulary I’d exposed myself to the day before, I decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. I gave Mrs. Salas a quick wave goodbye through the window, and made my way around the side of the house to my car.

  Mrs. Jefferson wasn’t home, nor was the third client whom I had yet to meet, but I poked around anyway, using my staff the way I had at the Salas’s to check for runes. I found one in both cases: One etched on a small stone near the back of the Jefferson’s home and the other on the third client’s goat pen. Curiously enough, the goats at there had no problem with the smell my magic use flared up, even when I poked my staff into their pen. Puzzled, but satisfied that Rocke’s runes were holding, I retreated to my Rover and headed for the fourth and final stop along my route.