by M. L. Ryan
Cortez was Aiden’s partner. They differed in both temperament and appearance. While Aiden was pale, boyish, and always amiable, Cortez was dark with bulging muscles and rarely said more than a couple of words at a time. When I first met him, I thought he was kind of intimidating. My impression changed once I got to know him better, and I realized he was just a man of few words. That, and Alex, Sebastian, and I accidentally walked in on a particularly kinky scene starring Cortez and my best friend, Rachel. Once you had seen someone standing in your living room wearing nothing but a ski mask and holding a flogger, they just didn’t seem all that menacing.
Without moving his head, which was pointed directly at the electronic board that displayed magical signatures much like radar detects objects, Cortez muttered, “I am not sniffing him again.”
Sensing my consternation—which wasn’t all that difficult given my tone of voice and stance—Alex said calmly, “Carisa, no one is implying that you do not perceive the scents that you describe. Perhaps your olfactory senses have been altered when you became Yterixa?”
“Maybe,” I agreed reluctantly. “But Hewlyxnathin said he’d never heard of such a thing before. Besides, even if that was the reason, birds have lousy sense of smell. I should be less olfactorally precise, not more so.”
“Quite right, my dear,” Sebastian remarked as he moved toward us and joined in the conversation. “Your logic, as always, is impeccable. Your grammar, however, leaves something to be desired. Is ‘olfactorally’ even a real word?”
Maybe it wasn’t, but I knew the smell of a pompous asshole. “Well, if it isn’t, it should be,” I snarked back.
“As I’ve said many times, the juxtaposition of your essence with my magic has resulted in something inimitable and spectacular. It is not at all surprising that your abilities are unique.”
“I’m not sure thinking Alex smells like premium ice cream can in any way be described as ‘spectacular’,” I complained. “Besides, my heightened sense of smell seems to extend only to you and Alex.”
Sebastian nodded. “True, but at least my bouquet is more poetic than Alexander’s. I must say, I was relieved that I evoke the scent of freshly cut grass.”
No one had a good explanation for either my strange olfactory skills, or why they seemed to be limited to Alex and Sebastian. I figured it was just another example of my weirdness. Like the birthmark on my upper butt cheek. Some people have cool ones—I had a friend in fourth grade that had one on her arm shaped like a little heart. Mine is kind of purplish and looks exactly like a hickey. Fortunately, it’s located in a place that is usually hidden by clothing, and Alex possesses supernatural vision. He realized immediately that it was not a love bite. The few others who have had the privilege of viewing it were not so easily convinced it was something with which I was born. And nothing was better than seeing that look in a new boyfriend’s eyes as they contemplated who you might have been with the night before, and why that someone sucked on your ass.
Alex jostled me from my reminiscing by asking, “So, where are we with this case?”
Cortez looked up from the screen and turned toward us. “There’s no magical trace now. None. And no one could mask their signature for this long.”
“Maybe he went back to Courso?” I wondered aloud.
“Doubtful,” Cortez answered, and then went back to scanning the confusing array of blinking dots on the monitor.
Sensing that he wasn’t planning to elaborate further, I turned to Alex and asked, “Why is that so unlikely? I thought pollution had screwed up the boundary between the dimensions, so that it was possible to move back and forth almost anywhere?”
“True, but one still leaves a detectable ripple when one crosses. Cortez would have seen such a disturbance.” Alex glanced at Cortez, who gave a slight nod in affirmation.
Sebastian, who had been remarkably silent so far, remarked, “Curious. Curious indeed.” He lifted his eyes and took a deep breath as he considered the information at hand. “None of this makes much sense, does it? Our killer doesn’t just murder people. He butchers them and leaves parts of his victims as he travels along. Why? Is he simply insane, or is there some method to his madness? And whatever the motivation for these crimes, how does he elude us?”
I had no background to develop an opinion as to why our murderer left a trail of body parts. Nor did I understand the technical possibilities that would allow someone to not show up on Cortez’s thingamajig. But how the hell had I missed seeing anyone tonight? Cortez estimated that we were only a mile or so behind the creep. I should have detected movement of some sort as I circled above, but I saw nothing at all until I discovered the legs.
Alex finally broke the silence. “Well, let’s keep monitoring in case we get the signature back. When the team that’s scheduled to replace us gets here in the morning, it will be their headache.”
2
We never picked up any more magical signatures that night, but as dawn broke, we heard a soft whining sound outside. I looked out one of the side windows close to where I thought the sound was coming from, but the dim light made it difficult to see much of anything. I started to go outside, but Alex stopped me before I had a chance to grab the doorknob. Using hand signals, he motioned for me to move away, pulled out a rather large semi-automatic handgun, and silently exited the vehicle. Aiden and Cortez followed his lead, guns drawn. You would have thought guns would be unnecessary for magically endowed enforcers, but apparently, even magic had a hard time arriving before a round from a Glock 22. Plus, we were in the human dimension. If the source of the noise was human, bullets worked just fine.
My heart was pounding, and I expected to hear yelling or a scuffle. Maybe even a trite command for someone to put their hands up. I was unprepared, however, for relieved snickering. Figuring whatever was out there wasn’t a threat, I peeked my head out the door. The three Xyzok stood in a semi-circle. Alex had already stuffed his weapon in the waistband of his jeans, but Aiden and Cortez still held their guns out and pointed at a large, dark figure in the center. It definitely wasn’t human, but I still couldn’t make out exactly what it was.
Alex crouched down. “You can lower your weapons,” he ordered. “The dog is unarmed.”
As my eyes adjusted to the day’s first hint of light, I could now distinguish a large, brown dog lying on the ground, its head resting on its front legs. If it was a pure breed, it was unfamiliar to me. While the fur on its face and legs was straight, the rest of its body was blanketed with tiny, curly corkscrews. The pooch resembled a chocolate Labrador retriever with a perm. Maybe it’s a Labradoodle, I considered. Although, I’d seen Labradoodles before, and they looked way less like a cross between a Lab and a Poodle than this dog did. Except for the ears. This pup’s weren’t floppy, but instead, they stood upright like a German Shepherd’s.
I walked closer to get a better look and crouched down about twenty feet away. “Hey there. Who do you belong to?” The dog cocked its head to one side as if contemplating my question. From this new vantage point, I noticed there was no collar, and the tip of the dog’s left ear was missing. It didn’t look like a recent injury, but it made me wonder what he’d been through in his life. Curly didn’t seem unfriendly—no growling or cowering—so I stood up and slowly moved forward. I heard vigorous tail wagging. When I sat on the ground next to the dog, it rolled over, exposed its belly, and let out a little, happy yip.
“Well,” I observed, rubbing the proffered underside, “at least now I know you’re a boy.” A fully intact one at that. When he flopped to one side, I carefully ran my fingers across his well-muscled shoulder. The curly fur was surprisingly soft but so thick, my fingers barely moved past the upper layer.
Alex came over and patted the dog’s head. “I wonder who he belongs to? We are some distance from any dwellings.” He examined the dog more carefully, gently prodding his chest and legs. “He seems in pretty good health—a little skinny maybe.”
“He could definitely use a bath,”
Aiden added, grimacing at the foul odor rising in the chilly morning air. Now that he mentioned it, the dog did kind of smell. I was happy I was not gifted with the Courso’s heightened olfactory senses in this instance, if my companion’s expressions were any indication of how much I was missing.
Aiden went to get the dog some water, and Cortez followed. I suspected neither was as much concerned about the dog’s well-being as getting away from the stench.
“What smells like cat feces and rotting fish?” Sebastian bellowed from the MCP. He stepped outside, holding his nose. “What is that beast doing despoiling the great outdoors?”
I stood up and brushed off my jeans. “He just wandered in.”
As Aiden returned and set the bowl down next to the dog, Sebastian stared at the animal. “Given our lack of proximity to anything, it is unlikely that he lives around here. Perhaps he belonged to the hikers.” That said, he turned and went back to the MCP.
Aiden tilted his head as he considered Sebastian’s idea. “I don’t recall any mention of a dog, but I’ll check with the local authorities.” He went back into the MCP to radio the park service and returned a few minutes later.
“The hikers had no dog, and no one else has reported one missing in the area. The rangers said if we bring him to their station, they will call animal control in Waynesville to come get him.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “What does that mean? He’s obviously been out here longer than just a night or so.” The animal was obviously thirsty; he lapped up all the water without hesitation. “This doesn’t sound like the kind of place with a no-kill shelter. If someone doesn’t claim him, they won’t put him to sleep, will they?”
Sensing my growing concern, Alex said he’d find out more information and went to call the rangers back. Just as he shut the door, the relief crew arrived. The replacements unloaded supplies from the four-wheel drive SUVs and crowded into the MCP for the debriefing.
It was just the dog and me now. The oh-he’s-so-cute-wouldn’t-it-be-nice-to-have-a-dog part of me wanted to bring him inside and ply him with food, but the oh-he’s-so-cute-someone-must-be-looking-for-him part didn’t want to get emotionally involved. Don’t get attached; don’t get attached, my logical self warned. Unfortunately, his big, golden-brown, trusting eyes kept boring into my softhearted soul as if to say, Don’t leave me here. By the time the meeting had finished, I’d convinced myself it was my sacred duty as an animal lover to rescue this poor, homeless canine.
Alex pulled me aside as Aiden and Cortez started to pile our gear into the SUVs. “The local shelter’s policy is if they can’t find the owner or someone to adopt him within three days, he will be euthanized.” He shushed me when I started to argue. “I’ve already spoken with Sebastian. You can take the dog as long as he is odor-free. I must say, I agree with him. No one is looking forward to a plane ride with a furry outhouse. I’ve already made arrangements to stop at the ranger station so you can give him a bath.”
I threw my arms around Alex. “You are the best,” I murmured into his chest. “How did you know?”
He lifted my chin and smiled. “I’m very observant. I could tell you were a goner as soon as you saw him.”
“What did you have to offer Sebastian to get him to agree?” Initially, I was joking, but suddenly a horrible thought crossed my mind. “Oh God, he didn’t ask for Rachel, did he?”
Sebastian had the hots for my best friend, and I wouldn’t put it past him to try to strike a deal to help wind his way into Rachel’s heart. Or at least into her pants.
Alex laughed and shook his head. “No, I didn’t have to serve up Rachel in exchange for the dog. Actually, he was quite amenable to it. He said, unlike your cat, a dog is a noble, useful creature and a worthy companion. Even though he resembles a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Now that I thought of it, with his thick, curly coat, the dog did look sort of like a sheep. Maybe for Halloween I can dress like Little Bo Peep and take the dog as my flock. The dog was already proving to be a useful addition. I usually couldn’t come up with a clever costume and somehow always seemed to end up as a slutty nurse. I could never figure out why that was a popular choice because nurses don’t generally wear short skirts, stiletto heels, and low-cut, see-through tops while they strain urine for kidney stones.
Alex’s expression became serious. “You know, carisa, we are out in the middle of nowhere. If the dog isn’t the hiker’s, perhaps he belongs to their killer.”
I’d been thinking the same thing, but it didn’t seem to fit. “I know, but who takes a dog with them on a killing spree?” I mused. “Besides, he’s pretty skinny, and he smells like he’s been out here a while.”
“True, but I just don’t want you to be surprised if it turns out he is our murderer’s pet.”
“Even if that’s so, it’s not like he murdered those people.”
Guiding me back into the MCP, Alex gave my hand a squeeze. “Of course not, but I’d hate to have you get attached and later have second thoughts because of his previous owner.”
Like that would ever happen. As Alex astutely noted, I was already a goner.
When everything was packed up, we were driven to the ranger station. Actually, the dog and I went in one car, and Sebastian, Aiden, Cortez, Alex, and two replacements who would take both cars back squeezed into the other. It was against Xyzok policy to let me drive one of their vehicles since I’m not a bona fide enforcer. However, everyone was more than willing to look the other way if it meant not having to spend forty-five minutes trapped in an enclosed space with my new friend, Feed-Lot Fido, an animal that made the inside of a sewage-treatment plant seem positively fragrant.
At first, the stench was so overwhelming I drove with my head as far out of the window as possible while still keeping a hand on the wheel. I must have gotten used to it because somewhere along the way, I realized I stopped gagging. Upon arrival at our destination, the rangers, who apparently were given a heads-up, directed my odiferous companion and me—from a respectable, up-wind distance—to a small out building with a hose in front. They had already left towels, and I snagged some of my own shampoo. Four wash, rinse, and repeats later, Putrid Pup finally smelled only of sweet almond and mint.
I, on the other hand, wasn’t as lucky. The fetid funk had managed to seep into both my clothes and hair, and my options were limited. I briefly contemplated asking to use a real shower, but I didn’t think it was fair to make the rangers experience the scent of oozing, infected pustule with notes of anal gland if I went inside. No one was around—they all must have decided it was safer to stay as far away as possible—so I quickly stripped down and used the rest of my fancy shampoo on me. I washed up as well as I could, and then wrapped myself in one of the towels I hadn’t used on the dog.
The hose water and the air temperature weren’t all that cold, but with wet hair and being decidedly underdressed for the conditions, I started to shiver. As fast as I could go with bare feet, I ran to where the cars were parked, grabbed my duffle, and extracted some dry clothes.
Dropping the towel, a tearing sound erupted from the second vehicle, the one I had driven. A large chunk of something flew out of the back of the SUV and landed about twenty feet away. It was then that I noticed Cortez, wearing a bright yellow hazmat suit and a gas mask, ripping the carpet out of the vehicle. No matter how mega-sensitive his Courso sense of smell, the outfit seemed a little over the top.
“Yo, wimp,” I called out. “Did you lose E.T.?”
He looked up, slowly scanned up and down my body, and then removed the mask. He was grinning.
I was about to continue pointing out his excessive fastidiousness and lack of nasal fortitude when I remembered I was naked.
“Son of a bitch, Cortez,” I shrieked, scrunching down and doing my best to cover myself with my arms. “Turn the fuck around, would you?”
He chuckled but complied. Over his shoulder, he remarked, “Turnabout is fair play.”
Cortez wasn’t referri
ng to his current position, but rather to the time a few months before when I’d gotten an inadvertent eyeful of him engaged in kinky sex play with Rachel. “Hey, at least you had something on,” I grumbled, hastily pulling on my clothes.
“Like a ski mask counts.”
My canine friend, either sensing my discomfort or offended that Cortez felt the need to refresh the SUV wearing personal protective gear, lowered his head and growled. I hadn’t noticed he’d followed me to the car, but appreciated his protectiveness.
I patted the dog’s damp, curly head. “Don’t worry, boy. Alex will probably kick his ass when he hears about this.” I was joking, but all the color drained from Cortez’s usually mocha-colored complexion. “Not smiling now, are you?” I added as I walked past him toward the ranger’s station.
Not only was the grin gone, but he kind of looked like he might pass out. I probably should have reassured him that I did not intend to mention this debacle to anyone, much less to Alex. But, as Cortez so aptly stated, turnabout was fair play. And I could be as fair as the next guy.
He was still standing right where I’d left him when Alex, Sebastian, and I returned to pile back into the vehicles. I pulled him aside and reassured him that he was safe from retribution before he removed the suit and joined us in the SUV.
It took another hour to get to the small, secluded airstrip where we boarded a private jet. The Courso enforcers had a fleet of fancy planes at their disposal to shuttle them around the human dimension, which was way nicer than anything any commercial airline could offer. The dog curled up in the aisle next to my seat and promptly fell asleep. While I usually partook of the personalized service and fantastic food Xyzok-Air provided, the second I settled into my richly appointed leather seat, I too was out like a light. Between the numerous form-bends and the discovery of various parts of the hikers, the four days spent trying to catch our culprit were both physically and emotionally taxing. It didn’t help that the MCP only had sleeping accommodations for two, which meant we snoozed in shifts and never had more than four or five hours at a stretch.