Dead Silver

by Max Florschutz

  The drive to Felix’s place wasn’t too long, but I had enough to spend a few minutes pondering why the Salas’s goats feared the scent of magic when the other client’s hadn’t. Both groups had supposedly faced what should have been the initial source. But if the chupacabra hadn’t made them scared of magic scent, what had?

  Maybe it came back after Rocke put the rune in place, part of my mind suggested. The rune activates, the smell fills the pen, and the goats see the chupacabra. I nodded absently. That made some sense. The chupacabra sets off the rune, the goats are alerted, and they associate the smell with the appearance of the chupacabra.

  And then what? I asked myself. It just retreats? Runs away, without bothering to look for another source of food? Why?

  I pondered the question for a moment before dismissing it with a shake of my head. It could have been for any number of reasons. Maybe it had decided that it wasn’t hungry enough to go somewhere else. Or maybe it was just skittish, and the runes had scared it off of all of its hunting spots. We just didn’t know enough about chupacabras and their behavior for me to make anything more than haphazard guesses. Although, I certainly hoped we hadn’t scared it off. As stressful as my trip had been so far, I wanted at least a shot at catching the thing.

  Mercury came bounding down Felix’s driveway as I pulled up, barking excitedly, and I had to slow down as she darted back and forth around my car. A moment after I’d come to a stop, Felix stepped out of the house, a look of surprise moving across his face as he recognized me.

  “Hawke!” he called, waving one hand as I made my way towards him, Mercury hopping around my feet. “I wasn’t expecting to see you pullin’ up.” He held out his hand, and I took it.

  “No?” I said, giving him a smile as we shook. “Why? Were you worried I might have skipped town after what happened with Rocke?”

  Felix’s face took on a serious cast. “How is he, anyway? I have to get back to work tomorrow, and I’ve been too busy to check.”

  “He’s better than the last time you saw him,” I admitted. “He’s not up and about, but it won’t be long.”

  “Well that’s good to hear,” Felix said, crouching down and scooping Mercury up from around my legs, cradling her in his hands. “So he’ll be back to fixin’ my chupacabra problem soon?”

  “I hope so.” I gave him a nod, and he turned towards his house, waving his free hand at me to follow. “Have you had any problems?” I asked as I stepped after him.

  “Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “Not since he put those runes up ‘round my cattle pen.”

  “Has Mercury noticed anything?” I asked, the dog’s ears perking up at the mention of her name.

  “Nah,” Felix said, giving her head a quick scratch. “She barks if there’s trouble, and she hasn’t barked since the runes went up.”

  “Did she bark before?”

  Felix nodded. “Eeyup, as soon as she knew something was wrong. Didn’t help in either case, though. Not her fault.”

  “How long does it take you to get to your cows once you know something is wrong?”

  “About ten minutes,” Felix said, his heavy tread echoing through the porch as he approached the front door. I could feel the thick wooden planks vibrating under my feet, and I wondered for a moment whether the wood was sturdy enough to hold both of us.

  “I keep them out back a ways, in a pretty large pen,” Felix said as he pushed the door open. Mercury leapt out of his arms and through the opening, claws skittering across linoleum as she vanished inside. “There’s not much for them to graze on, but they can at least move around and get some fresh air.” I nodded as I followed him inside, letting out a silent sigh of relief as cool air enveloped me.

  “So, if something goes wrong in the middle of the night, by the time I get my boots on, grab a light, and make my way out there, whatever’s bothering my herd has had a bit of time to get away.”

  “It sounds like you’ve dealt with this before,” I said as Felix led me into what looked like a combination parlor and living room. A couple of recliners and a large couch were arranged around a small coffee table that looked like it had been through at least two generations. A large, flat-panel TV hung on one wall, and I could see a mini-bar in the back corner. The TV was on but muted, a sports recap of some kind flashing across the screen.

  “Bored teenagers out ‘cow tipping,’” Felix said, dropping into one of the recliners with well-practiced ease. “Can I getcha’ a drink or something?” he asked, slapping one hand on his knee. “I forgot I already took the pitcher back to the sink.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, dropping into one of the recliners and feeling the leather bend around me. The recliner was almost my size, and I let myself relax a little as I sank back into it, surprised at how well it fit my frame. Felix must have had some big friends. “You already had a pitcher in here?”

  “Couldn’t answer the boys-in-blue’s questions if they were thirsty now, could I?” he asked. There was a scratching sound, and Mercury stuck her head around the doorframe, as if considering whether or not to leave the tile for the carpet. “They were asking about where we found Mr. Rocke, how we found him. The usual, I guess.”

  “Are they going to check out the cave?”

  Felix nodded. “I gave them pretty good directions, and as much as he tries to forget it, Carlton is a local boy, so he knows the area pretty well.”

  “Can I ask you something?” I said, my voice serious. Felix cocked an eyebrow at my sudden change in tone. “You’ve heard that David Jefferson disappeared, right?” I asked. Felix gave me a slow nod.

  “Well, he went missing the same night Rocke did,” I said. “I was just curious, did any of the questions the police asked seem to indicate they thought Rocke might have been responsible?”

  Felix’s brow rose in surprise, and I got the feeling that the only thing keeping him from laughing was my tone of voice. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, but he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.

  “You serious, now?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I am,” I said, my thoughts turning back to Sheriff Hanks’ outright accusations.

  “Well, you can stop worryin’ about it if that’s been eatin’ ya,” Felix said, settling back in his chair. “It seems to me they were more worried that someone here in Silver Dreams took exception to his bein’ around and decided to work him over.” My interest spiked as I saw a chance to move the conversation in a different direction.

  “You mean like someone who has it out for Unusuals?” I asked. “Do you have a problem with that here?”

  “No,” Felix said, shaking his head. “Not that I’ve ever heard of, at least.” He shrugged. “We had a white-supremacy group come through a few years back that tried to make a scene, but Sheriff Hanks put an end to that pretty quick.”

  “I can imagine,” I said. “What’s he like anyway?”

  “The sheriff?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he’s been sheriff for at least ten, maybe twenty years, I think,” Felix said, rubbing his chin with one hand. “I’ve never had too much to do with him, but from what I hear, he’s an all right guy. He’s had the position for years, so everyone must be okay with him. Or not have any complaints, at least.”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary, then?” I asked, not wanting to overplay my hand.

  “Nothing I’ve heard of,” Felix said, frowning. “Why?”

  “He’s been less than civil to Rocke and me,” I admitted

  Felix frowned further.

  “You didn’t do anything to tick him off, did you?” he asked, and I shook my head.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve barely met him, but he’s made it clear he wants Rocke and me out of town or in a cell somewhere.”

  “Well, that’s sure as sunshine a bit odd.” Felix leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. “And you’ve got no idea what might have set ‘im on you?”

  “Aside from both of us being Unusuals, no,” I said
, shaking my head.

  “Well, if it was that,” Felix said, shaking his head again, “he’d have problems with any other Unusuals around here, but I’ve never heard of anything.”

  “Do you know any of the local Unusuals?”

  “Actually, I do,” Felix said. “Julio, one of the guys I work with at the mine. He’s nothing impressive, but he’s an Unusual all right.”

  “And he hasn’t had any problems with Hanks?”

  “Not that I know of,” Felix admitted. “I could ask him when I go back tomorrow, but I think Hanks would have ample opportunity if he wanted to bother him.”

  Now it was my turn to frown. “Why?”

  “Hanks has been good friends with the Hendersons for years,” Felix said. “They go way back, and he stops by the mine from time to time. Julio’s status as an Unusual is right on his company paperwork.”

  Well, dang, I thought. That little tidbit made things even more nebulous. Maybe Rocke would be able to read something about it that I couldn’t.

  “All right,” I said, nodding. “Sorry to be accusatory like that. It’s just that Rocke and I are a little put off by Hanks’ attitude.”

  “Well, maybe it’s just a misunderstanding,” Felix suggested. I nodded, although I knew that certainly wasn’t the case.

  “Well, if you’d ask your friend for us, I’d appreciate it.” I said, getting up. “If we did happen to do something to make him angry, well …” I held up my hands. “In any case, if the runes on your pen are holding up, then I need to get back to Rocke. No problems?”

  “Like I said, not since Rocke put the runes out there,” Felix said, rising from his recliner. “They only good for a short time, though, right?”

  “Rocke said they probably have a few more days,” I said, nodding. “He’ll be back to renew them before then if we haven’t solved your chupacabra problem.”

  “Good,” Felix said, smiling again. “I’ll be at the mine for the rest of the week, but I’ll usually be home by six. Call me or stop on by if you need anything. I’ll ask Julio about Hanks. I don’t think he’ll have much to say, but it can’t hurt to ask, as long as it doesn’t start any rumors.”

  “Thanks.” I moved towards the front door, Felix behind me. “We just don’t want to make any waves.”

  “Catch that chupacabra, and you’ll make waves, all right,” Felix said as I stepped out onto the porch. “Hell, you’ll make history!” He stopped, one hand on the doorframe. “You really think you’ll actually manage it?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, giving him a shrug. “But as long as I have a good time trying and no one tries to do to me what they did to Rocke, I’ll be fine either way.”

  Chapter 11

  After saying goodbye to Felix, I made a quick stop at The Last Chance to pick up Rocke’s phone, as well as the expanded map that Cynthia Valons had put together for me. It wasn’t technically that quick of a stop, since the motel was about as far east from the center of town as you could get without going to the next county over, but between the phone and the map, it was a necessary detour. Once I’d grabbed what I needed, I made my way back toward the hospital, my mind picking over the conversations I’d had, searching for any important details, particularly with regards to the sheriff.

  His being on such close terms with the Hendersons kept coming back to me. It was too interesting a detail to ignore, and Vanessa had mentioned that the family’s support was one of the reasons Hanks had been the sheriff for so long—though she hadn’t known just how long that was. For all I knew, three years was a long time for her.

  Still, it was something that I could probably look into. If Hanks had been around for a while and was friends with the heads of the company that gave the town its livelihood, there was probably some public information on the subject. I made a mental note to look into it as I pulled into the hospital’s parking lot.

  Unfortunately, Rocke had been declared well enough to sleep in the few hours I’d been gone, and the staff was understandably reluctant to let me wake him up. I hadn’t planned on it in any case, but they seemed to think that it was my intent. After a brief and to-the-point discussion, they agreed to let me leave his phone on his bedside table while a nurse watched me from the door. It was a bit jarring, but I reminded myself that this was also the same group that had kept Hanks out. I was willing to cut them a little slack.

  Still, with Rocke sleeping off his injury I was entirely on my own once again. It actually worked in my favor, since I’d had another idea while I’d been out checking on Rocke’s clients. Not about Hanks or the homes Rocke and I were watching, but concerning how we were going to track down the chupacabra.

  It took me a while to locate the offices of the Weekly Dream, the town’s only newspaper. Unlike a lot of the businesses in Silver Dreams, the small press was actually situated near the outskirts of the city, sandwiched between several small family homes and a convenience store, and it took me some time to make my way to the right street, even with the address I’d found online.

  I pulled my Rover into one of the white-lines spaced out front, the paper’s sign proudly proclaiming they had been “Pursuing Dreams for More Than Eighty Years.” I was sure my hunch was good. Rocke’s area of expertise was criminal behavior and the undead, but mine was nature. So while his only thought in setting up his rune deterrents was to protect his client’s animals, I wanted to know: What was the chupacabra—or chupacabras, as the case could be—doing now that Rocke had cut off the food supply? The need to eat, to gain energy of some kind, was a basic fact of life. Now that Rocke had deprived the chupacabra of easily accessible blood, how was it going to react?

  A bell rang out above the door as I stepped into the paper’s front office, a cheerful, sharp ring that was just high-pitched enough to call attention but not irritate. The room was nothing special. The carpet was old and pressed down enough that it almost felt like soft, ridged tile, and the lights were old fluorescents, the kind that flickered in an almost perpetual dimness. A single, battered metal desk sat near the far wall, its surface clean and tidy, making it easy to see the scratches where olive-green paint had been scraped away over the years. Two plain, plastic chairs—both as scratched and battered as the desk—sat next to the door, alongside a small end table with copies of what I assumed was the latest edition of the paper. The whole place had a musty air to it, like a room that had been closed off for a few years and exposed to light again.

  I walked up to the desk and took a quick look, but my initial impressions at its lack of content hadn’t been inaccurate. I had been hoping for a bell or maybe an intercom, but a quick look was enough to tell me that neither were there. I took one last look around the room, considering for a few moments checking one of the other doors that led further into the building. Instead, I took a seat in one of the plastic chairs, leaning my staff against the armrest and hoping that whoever was manning the desk wouldn’t be long in returning. Now that I’d been inside for more than a few seconds, I noticed a distinct lack of air conditioning, and combined with the dusty and aged condition of the interior, I was going to end up fairly damp if I waited for more than a few minutes.

  Still, I didn’t have much else to do but wait, and I needed to speak with someone here—preferably in person. I’d been tempted to call, but the hands-on approach had always served me well in the past, especially when it came to explaining details. Today struck me as one of those occasions. So I picked up the a copy of the paper and started thumbing through it, skimming the headlines for anything that might be related to me or Rocke little adventure.

  My eyes had just alighted on an article discussing the future of Henderson Mining when I heard a faint voice, followed by the squeak of hinges as one of the doors in back of the room opened up.

  “Oh, hey!” came a surprised voice. “You were right, there is someone here!” I folded the paper back together and looked up at the source of the voice: A twenty-something kid wearing jeans and a plain, light-blue t-shirt with what looked l
ike a press pass bouncing around his neck. I pegged him as either a college graduate or an intern, a guess that gained some solidarity when someone further back in the office called out to him.

  “Well don’t just stand there!” the second voice said. “Find out what he wants!” The kid’s eyes widened for a moment, but then he composed himself with a quick shake of his head.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, giving me a nervous smile. “Usually people just come on back.” He stepped back and waved me towards the doorway with one hand.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, grabbing my staff in one hand as I stood and enjoying the look on the kid’s face when he realized how tall I was. “You guys don’t have a secretary?” I asked as I stepped around the battered desk.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head as he turned away, my free hand catching the door as it started to swing shut. “I guess we kind of do, but she’s out interviewing somebody so—”

  “Kevin,” came the same voice I’d heard before, echoing down the hall the kid was leading me down. “Alice isn’t our secretary. If anyone’s our secretary, it’s definitely—”

  “Me,” Kevin said, pushing one of the doors open and stepping into a much more modern—and thankfully cooler—space than the waiting room. “I know, I know. I’m the intern.”

  “Exactly,” the woman behind the desk said, her tone playful rather than condescending. “And since you’re the intern, if you wouldn’t mind taking a look at that latest article—”

  “And check for errors,” Kevin said, nodding at her. “I got it. Same as usual.” He backed out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him and leaving me alone with the unnamed woman behind the desk.

  “Sorry about that,” she said, flashing me a smile and making a motion with her head towards the room’s only free seat. “Usually people just come on in. We hardly ever have anyone use the waiting room. My name’s Evelyn Harper, by-the-way, but you can just call me Eve. Everyone else around here does.” The last part of her sentence was slightly muffled as she turned her head towards the papers scattered on her desk. “What can I help you with?”