by C. C. Mahon
“Detective Dale,” reiterated Nate, “it’s late, and we’re very sad about Agatha’s death. Could we have this conversation some other time?”
Dale looked from Nate to me, several times, as if he was trying to figure out our relationship. And a big bright smile transformed his face. “Very well. I’ll come back.”
He handed me a business card, turned on his heels, and walked away into the darkness. I put the card in my pocket without looking at it.
“Let’s go,” I said. We didn’t have all night.
I drove full speed down the streets of Vegas, not worrying about whether or not Nate was following me. If he intended on coming with me, he’d have to keep up.
17
Thinking back on it, it probably wasn’t a bad thing that Nate was coming with me. Despite its great qualities, my bike wasn’t the best suited vehicle to transport an injured harpy who was probably in shock, while in the banged-up truck in which Nate was following me, we could easily transport two harpies if need be. Or a few bears. Which was sad, since Nate didn’t have any bears other than him to put in his hunk of metal. One day, I’d have to ask him why he didn’t have a clan.
Another day.
For now, I had to focus on the road, my destination, and Barbie.
I parked my bike in the parking lot of an all-night bowling alley several blocks before the drugstore. Nate did the same. We weren’t in the best part of town, and it wasn’t the most lively, either. But each street corner was adorned by its own dealer or prostitute. They were as much potential witnesses as they were potential collateral victims.
The drugstore stood on its street corner, exactly like in Britannicus’ hologram, with moonlight added. Callum would never set foot in a place like this. That left us with the blonde and undoubtedly some muscle. I thought about this possibility for a minute before disregarding it; if the blonde hadn’t brought anyone with her to beat up a vampire, she wasn’t going to bother with accomplices to babysit a hostage.
“There must be a door in the back,” whispered Nate. “Let’s go around.”
In a neighborhood like this, any store would have good locks. Especially if they sold drugs. This drugstore was no exception, and the emergency exit that we discovered in the side alleyway looked like it belonged on a prison. And it had no handle.
“I should be able to break it down,” grumbled Nate.
“Quietly? I doubt it.”
“What do you suggest, boss?”
“If Barbie and the blonde are inside, they must’ve found a way in. We should check the boards over the window.”
There were many reasons why I was the boss and Nate was the bouncer. He was able to break down armored doors; I wasn’t. But I had enough brains so I didn’t have to break down the doors. That’s why I was able to find the board hiding the way into the drugstore in under five minutes. It had been temporarily placed between a few nails to make it seem like it was properly attached, but when I lifted it, it revealed a broken window and a gaping hole that opened up to the insides of the store.
“I’m going first,” said Nate.
“No, you’re too loud.”
“That depends on what form I’m in. Give me a couple minutes.”
With a wink, he headed back down the alley. Two minutes later, my heart jumped in my chest when I saw a grizzly trotting over.
I knew that Nate could transform into a bear. It was part of the reason why I’d hired him. But I’d never seen him in his animal form. A shady street corner, in the middle of the night, with the moon and a dim streetlight as the only lighting created a strange backdrop for this meeting. And I was happy to know that the bear was on my side.
I let Nate go in first, and I had to admit that his big paws didn’t make any noise. I followed suit, carefully putting back the board behind me before grabbing my gun.
It was very dark in the drugstore. The only source of light was coming from the emergency exit signs. Again, many thanks to the Nevada firefighters for their obsession with signs. After only a few moments, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I took in my surroundings.
The first floor looked like every other store I knew: shelves lined the walls, others were lined up the middle of the room, and a counter sat at the back, where the registers must’ve been. Everything was empty. Not even a stray bag of candy.
Nate finished looking around the room, nose in the air, like he was searching for a scent.
I only smelled dust, with a hint of mold. But I didn’t have the nose of a bear.
Nate walked back over to me and pointed his head in the direction of the stairs leading to the second story. I let him go ahead of me, since he seemed to cling to it.
He stopped halfway up the stairs, and I ran into his furry ass. If I was to believe his cocked head and his perked-up ear, he’d heard something. Yes, I heard it too. Someone was humming. A woman.
The blonde, I thought, sparking my anger again.
Nate started climbing again, and I followed him, a few steps behind.
I didn’t recognize the song. Even listening carefully, I wasn’t able to understand any words. The song probably wasn’t in English. So our blonde was from a foreign country. That didn’t matter. When I was done with her, she wouldn’t feel like singing, whatever the language.
Just before reaching the landing, Nate stopped again. This time he glued himself to one side of the staircase and flattened himself onto the stairs. I kneeled down to his level, my eyes just above the last step. That’s when I saw it.
There was light coming from the second story. It wasn’t very bright, and it was coming from a camping lamp placed on a shelf. Beside the lamp, there was an opened granola bar and two feet in leather boots. They belonged to a women sitting in one of those massage chairs they sold in pharmacies. The woman was blonde. She was humming while filing her nails with a giant machete. Behind her, the light was reflecting off silver papers in a pile on the floor. Granola bar wrappers, abandoned in the middle of the room. Past the wrappers, a silhouette was barely moving. Barbie, tied up and thrown to the ground, but apparently alive.
Now I was so close to her that I could smell the stale tobacco odor that always lingered in Barbie’s hair and feathers. A sweet smell mixed with it, probably from a half-eaten granola bar.
Nate turned his big bear head towards me. He widened his eyes and jerked his head in the direction of the blonde. I agreed in silence. He stood back up on four legs and lunged. I followed, yelling, “Freeze, we’ve got you surrounded!” Which didn’t have the desired effect.
The blonde stood up so quickly that she seemed to teleport off the chair to stand in front of us. Feet firmly on the ground, hair haloing around her head like a crown of golden curls, she raised her machete and waited for the grizzly to charge.
Nate changed directions at the last minute, and the machete just barely missed his neck. Nate’s shoulder rammed into Goldilocks and sent her tumbling several feet back. She rolled and regained her footing in one swift movement, as if she did this kind of tumble all damn day.
Matteo had warned us: she was strong and fast.
Not faster than a bullet.
Like at the firing range, I spread my legs, one slightly in front of the other; I extended my arms, locked my elbows, and took time to aim before shooting. Two shots, in quick succession, without wavering. My instructor would’ve been proud of me.
The blonde felt the impact and backed up a step. She shook her head like a wet dog would and lunged towards me with a guttural scream.
I saw her coming, machete held high, blonde hair flowing around her head like a ring of fire, her face contorted in rage.
I didn’t move. Not to dodge or to block, either. I wasn’t able to.
Only one thought looped in my head: I’d hit her—twice—and she wasn’t even hurt.
Nate’s black figure rammed into the blonde at the last minute, and they both went tumbling to my right, in a tangle of paws and legs, of fur and blonde hair, of growls and swears in an unk
nown language.
I shook myself from my trance and rushed towards Barbie.
The harpy lifted her head when she heard me coming.
“It’s me, Erica.”
I got a grumble in response. The blonde had gagged Barb.
18
I got to my knees and slid off the gag. Under her tangled hair, Barb’s face was covered in bruises. Her bottom lip was busted and had swelled to three times its size. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’d lost a few teeth. My harpy hadn’t let herself be taken without a fight.
I took out my knife to cut Barb’s ties and let out a curse. She wasn’t bound with rope but rather with metal wire. My knife was useless.
“Hold on, I need to find the knot,” I whispered.
I felt the wire without daring to look back. Behind me, I could hear the fight continuing. How long before Goldilocks noticed what I was doing?
I pricked my finger on the end of the wire and started to jiggle it to loosen the knot. At least I tried. Nothing budged. You’d think she had welded the chain.
Where had this woman learned to tie knots like this? The Boy Scouts?
A roar forced me to turn my head. Something knocked over the light of the lamp. Purely out of reflex, I threw myself over Barbie’s body. The machete missed my head by a hair’s breadth.
Nate came charging and forced Goldilocks to leave me alone. I got back to working on Barbie’s ties.
After having split open my fingers multiple times on the metal fibers, I finally felt the cable give way. I undid the knots and started to free Barbie. A violent shock between my shoulder blades threw me over Barb’s body once again. All the air left my lungs; my ears were ringing from a phantom noise. It was nothing compared to what the blonde did to me when she landed on my back with all of her weight. She caught my hair, pulled my head back, and I felt her machete being pressed against my throat.
“Tell me where the sword is,” she ordered.
I would’ve answered, but she pulled my head back so forcefully that no sound could leave my throat.
Then her weight was lifted from my back, her blade left my throat, and she rolled several feet, followed by Nate’s roar.
Something wasn’t right about the grizzly’s movements. He was too slow, clumsy, and his big paws slid on the tile. The yellow light of the camping lamp revealed dark tracks on the ground. Blood. The grizzly slipped and fell hard on one shoulder. The blonde took advantage of this to straddle the bear, sitting astride his massive chest. She raised her machete with two hands, ready to plunge it into the grizzly’s neck. I raised my weapon and emptied the magazine in Goldilocks’ back.
The movement tore a cry of pain from me. I felt like my back, between my shoulder blades, had just split open. I wobbled, and I felt around to find my gun that was now empty and useless. In any case, the women seemed to be bulletproof.
On my end, I only had one magical skill, and I failed to see how it could be used offensively.
Goldilocks got off of Nate and stood up deliberately slowly, like a villain from a movie, the ones who never stoop to running but always catch their victim.
Ah, if only I’d learned how to throw fireballs or…
Wait a minute. I know that I can’t throw fireballs. But she doesn’t.
I raised my right hand, open as if I was holding something in my palm. I pictured a flaming orb, floating a couple inches above my skin, and murmured the incantation. This time, I didn’t wait for the tingling above my wrist. A look over at my opponent confirmed that I didn’t have to. The blonde had frozen, halfway between Nate and me, and she was staring at my hand. I had hoped to scare her, but instead her expression was… outraged. As if I’d just committed some inexcusable act.
“Your tricks don’t scare me, witch!” she yelled.
Her accent was thick, but I wasn’t able to place it.
It wasn’t the time for linguistics, and I “threw” my illusion at my enemy.
A normal person would’ve dived behind a shelf. Goldilocks did dive, but forward, under the fireball. One roll later, she stood back up and without slowing down lunged at me, machete raised up high.
I let my illusion fade away.
I’d played my only magical card, to no avail. It was time to make use of my krav maga classes.
Goldilocks was coming up on me. I sidestepped, catching the wrist that was brandishing the machete as she passed me. With a twist, the machete hit the ground. It didn’t slow down the blonde, who jumped on me, without a weapon but with an echoing war cry. Matteo was right: she was completely nuts.
With slight of hand that had nothing to do with illusion and everything to do with my krav maga teacher, I sent Goldilocks flying down the stairs. I listened to her tumble down the stairs and land on the first floor like a bull in a china shop. If the noise was anything to go by, she must’ve knocked over several shelves on the way down. That gave me a few minutes to check on my grizzly.
Except my grizzly no longer was one.
Nate had returned to his human form and with that a lack of fur that no underwear was making up for.
However, my employee’s nudity was the least of my worries. Because Nate was bleeding and not just a little bit. At least three cuts longer than my hand lined the skin of his thigh, his stomach, and his chest. There might’ve been more. With all that blood, it was hard to say.
“Can you stand?”
He straightened up and managed to sit, but it was hard to ask more of him. “She’s coming back,” he breathed.
Barb was at the other end of the room, still tangled like a mermaid in a fishing net.
My grizzly was down for the count.
I had no more ammo, no more weapons, and in any case our blonde seemed as invincible as the Terminator.
Let’s not kid ourselves; this operation was heading towards a dismal failure. It was time to cut our losses—and save our lives.
“Barb,” I said, “I’m sorry. We’ll get you out of here, I promise.” Then I pressed my lips to Nate’s ear and whispered, “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Trust me.”
I concentrated to project my illusion. It was the first time I attempted to cover someone else with my glamour. I decided to keep it simple and hide us behind a wall the same gray as the floor of the drugstore. The tingling told me it was working at the very moment Goldilocks set foot on the second story. Her fall hadn’t even messed up her hair.
I held my breath as she passed only a few feet from us. She didn’t see us.
“Here kitty, kitty, kitties!” she called out as if she were looking for her lost cat.
Something stirred from where Barbie was laying. Goldilocks headed in that direction. I grabbed Nate under the arms and pulled him, inch by inch, in the direction of the stairs.
“Kitty, kitty, kitties!” continued the blonde.
She bent over to pick up her machete. Another crunch caught her attention further towards Barbie. Under my foot, I felt the first step.
Nate went down the stairs in a sitting position, leaving long trails of blood behind him, but without making a sound.
A racket exploded above our heads. I imagined Barbie, still tied up, facing Goldilocks and her machete. Hopefully the crazy woman wanted the sword enough not to harm my waitress.
I managed to open the exit in silence, but the blonde had figured out that we weren’t on the second floor anymore. She was coming down the stairs in a flurry of boots and exotic swear words. I froze, projected the image of a row of shelves identical to the others, and prayed that the stranger couldn’t hear my heart beat.
She noticed the gaping window, let out more curses, and rushed out onto the street.
I saw her heading in one direction and dragged Nate in the other.
Not only had we not gotten Barbie back, but Nate was now in bad shape. And what had we learned? That Callum wasn’t there—no surprise—that he’d hired the Terminator—Matteo had told us that—and she was working alone. Great.
At least Barbie was still alive.
After a few long minutes hidden in the space between two overflowing dumpsters, I judged that the coast was clear. In my arms, Nate had stopped shivering. He was also unconscious. I wanted to carry him, but my back reminded me of my little souvenir. I had no idea what the crazy bitch had hit me with between my shoulder blades. I was going to have wicked bruises. But I was more worried about Nate.
I decided to leave Nate unconscious and naked behind the dumpster to go get his truck. Of course, I didn’t have his keys. No driver would leave their car keys in the glove box, especially at night in a shady neighborhood. But that’s exactly where I found them. The tendency for metamorphs to lose their clothes—and the content of their pockets—pretty much everywhere had consequences that I’d never thought of. I thought about it a lot as I loaded Nate’s body in the back of his truck. When he regained consciousness, I’d have some questions for him. Had he ever considered wearing his keys around his neck?
19
By the time we got back to the club, Nate had regained consciousness. I let him grab a bag of clothes shoved under the seat of the truck but stopped him before he got dressed.
“You’re injured, I said. “Let me get my first aid kit.”
I placed my hand on his chest, and I felt goosebumps under my fingers. I stubbornly refused to lower my gaze, which would possibly reveal to me what was no longer hidden by underwear. Consequently, I kept my gaze locked on Nate’s brown eyes. Something was happening in the depths of his eyes, a spark of energy instantly replaced by a nostalgic expression. He pulled away slowly.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll be like new in a few hours. Why don’t you tell me what we’re dealing with?”
I shrugged and winced in pain. “I don’t know any more than you do.”
“Let me see.”
Nate gently took off my jacket. His fingers were warm, burning even. It was a sign of a metabolism working overtime to heal his wounds. And the goosebumps I was getting were simply due to the contrast of his burning fingers against my exhausted body.