by Gary Jonas
“My wife has a plastic fish that plays ‘Take Me to the River,’” Granger’s partner said.
“You must be the life of the party.”
“Let’s go, kid,” Granger said.
“Can I at least brush my teeth and put on some shoes?”
“No.”
“You’re the one who’s going to be alone in a car with me,” I said and turned to breathe on him.
He waved a hand in front of his face, but kept the gun on me. “Jesus, kid. Fine, go brush your freaking teeth.”
“Go with him, Granger,” his partner said.
Granger sighed and followed me up the stairs to the bathroom.
I brushed my teeth, and nodded to the toilet. “Do I have time for my morning constitutional?”
“It’s afternoon.”
“Whatever.”
“No. You’ll have to hold it.”
“Fine,” I said. I moved into my bedroom and grabbed my shoes.
“Put them on in the car.”
“Keys,” I said, pointing to the dresser. “Gotta lock the house. Don’t want burglars to come in.”
He rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop me from grabbing the keys.
We went downstairs. I couldn’t think of a pretense to get them into the living room. I thought a game of seventy-eight card pickup would be a bad idea. So we went outside. I locked the door behind us, and they led me to their car, a blue Chevy Malibu.
“Nice rental,” I said. “Where you boys from again?”
“None of your business,” Granger said. “Get in.”
I climbed into the backseat. “You guys also rent a black SUV?”
“No.”
“Someone in your entourage, perhaps?”
“Shut up or I’ll shoot you.”
I decided not to press the issue. Who says I can’t learn new tricks?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Their boss had a beach house out past Jamaica Beach. It was a thirty minute ride. We were in the high season, meaning prices were hiked for the summer, and it also meant that to get a beach house rental would be unlikely. That meant either a local or these guys managed to find a vacant house on short notice.
In the low season, there are plenty of vacant homes. And in town, there are some year-round vacancies. Lots of folks left Galveston after hurricane Ike and never came back.
Granger parked the Malibu in a carport next to a silver BMW with Michigan plates. I reassessed the situation because now I figured the bad guy here was normally a snowbird. I mean, who in their right mind would want to suffer through a Michigan winter? So he must be out here in July because of the damn Tarot cards.
A tall, slender man in a suit stepped out the front door. His gaunt features reminded me of H.P. Lovecraft, only this guy had puffy white hair.
“Dickson, Granger, you brought a guest,” the man said as we got out of the car.
He had a pipe in one hand and a lighter in the other. He lit something in the pipe, but it wasn’t tobacco. It also wasn’t marijuana. He puffed it and blew out a smoke ring. The aroma was sandalwood.
“You’re smoking incense?” I asked.
“Are you Brett Masters?”
“Yeah,” I said. “What’s the deal with the sandalwood?”
“It’s a magical blend concocted by a psychic in Grand Rapids. She said it would calm my nerves, and she was right. I’d like the deck now.”
“Where’s Sabrina?”
“She’s inside.”
“Bring her out here. I want to make sure she’s all right.”
“First, I want the deck.”
“I’ve got the deck in my pocket. Get Sabrina out here, and I’ll hand the cards over to you.”
“Granger,” the man said. “Fetch the bitch.”
“Yes, sir.”
Granger entered the house.
“I didn’t catch your name,” I said.
“I didn’t offer it.”
“I need to call you something. Einstein seems too generous.”
The man grinned and puffed his incense. Magical blend, my ass. I was willing to bet the psychic bought the cheapest shit she could find then marked it up and called it a special magic blend. It smelled like typical cheap sandalwood to me. My older sister used to burn that shit all the damn time.
“You may call me Mr. Vesuvius.”
“Because you go off like a volcano?”
The grin didn’t waver. “You don’t want to be my Pompeii, Mr. Masters. Respect would be wise.”
“Yeah, well, respect is in short supply right now. You’re a common kidnapper and a thug.”
“There’s nothing common about me. While we wait for Mr. Granger to bring Ms. Tenn out here, what do you know about the Tarot?”
“You’re not going to lecture me, are you?”
“What do you know of the origin of the cards?”
“Playing cards for rich folks in the middle ages.”
“Did you know that many gypsies used cards for storytelling purposes? A spread can tell a fortune, of course, but it can also spin a wonderfully complex yarn.”
“It’s too early for a bedtime story,” I said.
“It wasn’t until Etteilla created his deck that the cards were used for divination.”
“Oh, Jesus, is there going to be a test?”
“Are you not a student of the occult?”
“I’m a student of napping.”
Granger returned with Sabrina in tow. Her hands were bound behind her, and she wore a blindfold. A gag had been stuffed into her mouth as well.
“Remove the gag and blindfold,” I said.
Volcano dude shook his head. “Not a chance,” he said. “She’s too powerful. She set Mr. Dickson on fire before we subdued her. Now, hand over the deck.”
I pulled the deck from my pocket and held it up. “It’s right here.”
“Very good. Granger?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Should we shoot them both or let them go?”
“Shoot them.”
“Oh, come on,” I said. “We’re not worth the cost of the bullets. You can have the deck. There’s no reason for violence.”
“There’s always a reason for violence,” Granger said.
“Mmmm,” Sabrina said. “Mmmm hmmm mmmm.”
“Such language,” Volcano dude said. “What do you think, Mr. Dickson? Should we kill them and dump them in the sea?”
“Your call, sir.”
He puffed his incense. “Would you like to beg for your life, Mr. Masters?”
“Not especially. Would you like me to set fire to the deck?”
“Madame X has need of that deck, Mr. Masters.”
His psychic called herself Madame X? I managed not to roll my eyes. “And I’m still addicted to breathing, so let’s just make the swap. What do you say?”
“You’re lucky the sandalwood has a calming effect on me. I’m in a generous mood. Granger, remove her blindfold, but nothing else.”
Granger frowned, but did as he was told. Her right eye was swollen and already growing discolored.
Sabrina stared at me, and at the deck in my hand. She met my gaze, but gave away nothing. She was good.
“The cards,” Volcano dude said holding out his hand.
I stepped forward and placed the deck on his palm.
“Thank you,” he said. He flipped through the cards. “These don’t feel ancient.”
“Magic has a way of preserving the cards,” I said.
He shrugged. “Madame X will be very grateful.”
“Give her my best,” I said.
Volcano dude turned to Sabrina. “You’re free to go.” Then he turned to me. “Don’t free her hands or mouth until you’re at least a mile away.”
I nodded and opened the back door of the Malibu, gesturing for Sabrina to get in.
“What are you doing?” Volcano dude asked.
“Getting into the car.”
He shook his head. “Oh no you’re not. You two can walk back
to town.”
“That’s fifteen miles,” I said.
“At least.”
“That’ll take like five hours,” I said.
“Then you’d best start walking.”
There wasn’t another choice at hand, so Sabrina and I started walking.
I pulled the gag from her mouth as soon as we were away from the beach house. She worked her jaw and jerked her head toward her shoulder while wiggling her hands.
“I don’t have a pocket knife,” I said.
“He’s going to find out he has the wrong Tarot deck.”
“Yeah, he will.”
“What did you give him?”
“Something that looked old. Where are the cards, Sabrina?”
She grinned. “You don’t know, do you?”
I shook my head.
She stopped, and spread her hands. Ropes dropped to the ground. She turned and headed back toward the beach house.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked.
“I’m not walking back to town.”
“I have my phone. I’ll call Teddy.”
“I’m also not willing to let Mr. Franklin get away with kidnapping me.”
“I thought his name was Vesum… uh, Volcano dude.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you going to help?”
“You going to set them on fire?”
“I would have defeated them if that Granger asshole hadn’t punched me.”
“Yeah, you’re going to have quite the shiner tomorrow.”
“I’ll heal it later. But first, it’s time to get even.” Her hands glowed and lightning danced on her fingertips.
I sighed and followed.
We walked right up to the house. She was about to blast the door when I held up a finger. I reached past her and turned the knob. It wasn’t locked. I pushed the door open.
She went in first.
Franklin or Volcano dude or whatever looked up from where he sat on the sofa just in time to see Sabrina blast the shit out of him.
He flopped forward, smacked his face on the coffee table, and rolled off to the floor where he didn’t move.
Granger heard the blast and ran through the kitchen into the adjoining dining room, but he didn’t get to punch Sabrina this time. She let a powerful blast go. Granger flew into a backward somersault over the glass table in the dining room, knocked over two chairs then crashed through the window.
Dickson charged down the stairs, but Sabrina motioned with one hand and the stairs disappeared. Dickson fell headlong to the floor, and slid into the wall beside the front door. A framed painting of a seascape fell on his head. Glass shattered and rained around him.
“Are they dead?”
Sabrina grinned. “No, but they’ll wish they were. They’ll be out for a while. It’s playtime.”
Playtime in Sabrina’s head was just wrong. She stripped them all naked, and tied two of them together so they were face to crotch in a sixty-nine position, and tied the boss up so his nose was lodged firmly in his minion’s ass crack. Then she made her final adjustments and, well, let’s just say the big guys were going to wake up with their mouths full.
She dug through their clothes to find their phones. With each phone, she snapped explicit compromising pictures and uploaded them to their social media pages.
“I think you’re enjoying this,” I said.
She smiled and nodded, then held up a set of car keys. “Shall we go home?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Remind me not to piss you off.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Why did you take the cards?” I asked as I drove us back to the house. We were in the Malibu. The Beamer was tempting, but I didn’t want to be a complete asshole, and the rental company could send someone to pick up the Chevy.
“Your hiding place sucked,” Sabrina said.
“So where are the cards?”
“You don’t know, do you?”
“That’s kinda why I asked.”
“They weren’t sent to you.”
“They weren’t sent to you either.”
“But my father is the one who acquired them.”
“Stole them.”
“I like acquired better,” she said.
“Of course you do. But stole is more accurate.”
“Look, Brett, there are some seriously bad people after that deck. I’m just keeping it safe until I can personally present it to your father. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
“I know that. But how did you know?”
“He called me. He’s flying in to Scholes early in the morning. Well, early for you.”
“If it’s morning and the sun is up, it’s early for me.”
“He didn’t ask me to meet him there, though. Is that unusual?”
“He’s got a hangar there. He’ll store his plane, and drive one of his many cars over.”
“I didn’t know he was a pilot.”
“He’s not,” I said. “He has a pilot on staff. How long has it been since you’ve seen my father?”
She shrugged. “Just over ten years. He was at my mother’s funeral.”
“That’s right,” I said. “She had a pink casket.”
“She originally wanted to be buried in a pink Cadillac.”
“Springsteen fan?”
“I don’t know. I remember your father speaking at the service. He exuded a quiet power. I was so impressed. As a little girl, I never picked up on it, but then we were always sent away so the grownups could talk. I spoke at my sister’s funeral, so I’m doubly impressed with how measured and controlled he was.”
Her mother, my Aunt Kristin, was my father’s sister. Paul was from a separate magical line, and while my father had always been nice to him, Dad sure complained to my mother about him. I didn’t tell Sabrina any of that, of course.
“The only other thing I remember from the funeral was that they poured concrete into the grave,” I said.
“You were so high, I’m amazed you remember that.”
“Was it that obvious?”
She laughed. “My father was pissed about that. It was disrespectful, he said. You reeked of reefer when you shook his hand, and when you hugged me. My father stole your bag of weed when you offered your condolences.”
“I wondered what happened to that.”
“Now you know.”
“I gotta ask, what was the deal with the concrete?”
“You haven’t seen that before? The graveyards here in Galveston have a lot of plots filled or covered with concrete.”
“I’ve driven past the cemeteries here, but I haven’t gone in. Too many ghosts.”
“There are ghosts all over Galveston,” Sabrina said. “After the Great Storm, a lot of the bodies were just buried where they were found. This whole town is a graveyard.”
“I’ve heard that. You didn’t answer my question.”
“The concrete is to prevent necromancers from raising the dead to do their bidding.”
“Necromancers creep me out.”
“As well they should. Can you stop at a restaurant up here somewhere? I’m starved.”
“You just went through a kidnapping ordeal.”
She laughed. “Those losers? Give me a break. I could have escaped from them whenever I wanted.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“I wanted to see if you’d show up. Oh, stop at Shrimp N Stuff. Left turn there.” She pointed.
I made the turn, and pulled into the small gravel parking lot. The place was packed, but that was always the case. They had damn good food, and it didn’t cost an arm and a leg. Before we went into the restaurant, I turned to look at Sabrina. “You were testing me?”
“I needed to know what you’d do.”
“That was stupid. They could have killed you.”
She rolled her eyes. “They caught me off guard, but I let them take me. There’s some serious shit about to go down. I know you’re a slacker, but I needed to know if that extended to letting people get hurt.
”
“This was my father’s idea, wasn’t it?”
“Nope. All mine. Let’s eat. You came to get me, so it will be my treat.”
“You go in,” I said. “I need to make a phone call.”
“What do you want?”
“Whatever you’re getting is fine with me.”
She nodded and got out of the car.
I pulled out my phone. I actually had two calls to make. The first was to Michael to let him know everything was cool. The second call was to Olivia.
She answered on the second ring. “Good afternoon, Mr. Masters,” she said.
“It’s after five, so I think it’s evening.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t at the hospital when you woke up. And I’m sorry it took so long to call you. It’s been a crazy day.”
“I’m sure.”
“You’re pissed. I understand that.”
“At least you took me to a hospital.”
“Concussion?”
“Mild.”
“When did they release you?”
“Early this morning.”
I sighed. She wasn’t going to make this easy. “I should be pissed at you, but I’m not.”
“Why should you be upset with me?”
“Because your last name is Sinclair.”
“My last name is Dartmoor.”
“Not according to the hospital.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Joseph Carlisle Sinclair III.”
“Never heard of him.”
“You’ve never heard of your father?”
“My father is Eric Dartmoor,” she said.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “Your father sent you here. You’re his agent.”
“You’ve got it wrong,” she said. “I’ll admit, I was married to Joseph Sinclair IV, but I divorced him after four months. That was ten years ago.”
“Fine, so your father-in-law sent you as his agent.”
“Not true. Look, I got a call from him this morning, but he told me not to tell anyone.”
“So you’re coming clean now and I’m supposed to believe anything you say?”
“I thought you liked me.”
“I did.”
“I liked you too.”
“Right,” I said. “You tried to play me. Everyone’s trying to play me or test me or kill me. It’s been a shitty week.”