by A. Blythe
Oscar intercepted us between Mix’s apartment and South Street.
“How’d you know where to find us?” I asked, as he appeared next to Pinky on the sidewalk. I knew the Enclave Headquarters was underground somewhere in this vicinity, but its location was a secret.
“I texted him from the apartment,” Pinky said.
“We've identified the mage,” Oscar said. “You’re going to want to hear this.”
I continued walking at a brisk pace. “So I guess he wasn't unregistered.”
"No, not even close. In fact, it looks like he worked for PAN.”
I nearly tripped over my own feet. "In what capacity?"
"He was only identified as an asset. Nothing more."
Well, now things were interesting. I had no doubt that whoever he was, he was looking for me.
"Name?"
"Ridley Farber. No known family. Had an apartment in Arlington."
So he was an asset that lived outside of PAN headquarters in D.C. That meant that he was not an occasional player. "Do we know anything else about him?"
“We've alerted PAN and are awaiting their response." Oscar’s brow furrowed. "You know how they are, though. I doubt we’ll get much more information. They’ll most likely tell us they’ve never heard of him.“
True. "Thanks for letting me know, Oscar."
“Pinky, I had a meeting cancelled if you’re interested in coming back to headquarters for a training session.”
Pinky glanced at me for approval.
“You’re a grown woman,” I said. “You make your own schedule.”
“Awesome. There’s a new spell Oscar promised to show me.”
He seemed mildly embarrassed. “I haven’t mastered the spell myself, but I think Pinky’s a good fit for it. I figured we should give it a try.”
“Go big or go home,” I said, with a lame attempt at a fist bump. Pinky laughed and swatted my hand away.
“I’ll check in with you later, boss,” Pinky said.
As soon as Oscar and Pinky slipped back down the rabbit hole, I went straight to the Office of the Protectorate to see Reed. I didn’t need to wait for Oscar’s PAN contact to get back to him when I already had an insider of my own.
The Office of the Protectorate was located right near City Hall. It was a building like any other, only it housed a team of the Nephilim who had chosen to serve as Protectors. These offspring of humans and angels were a key component in protecting humans from some of the more vile supernatural creatures that walked the earth. The Nephilim were strong, fast, and some of the more advanced ones could read minds and control fire. Reed could do all of the above and then some. He was, quite plainly, the most impressive Nephilim I'd ever crossed paths with and that was saying something.
Reed, I'm in your lobby. I decided to send him a telepathic message. I'd say it was because I was lazy, but really it was because I couldn't stand the receptionist. She always looked at me like I trashed her party and drank the last bottle of rum.
He appeared in the lobby in less than a minute. "You rang?"
"You told me to let you know when I had information, so I'm here. But it looks like I'm going to need some information of my own."
He shot me a quizzical look. "My office?"
I shook my head. I disliked office conversations, mainly because you never knew who was eavesdropping. I’d been an agent long enough to know that confidential conversations were best done outdoors.
“Let’s take a walk then," he said. He turned toward reception. "Rebecca, I'm heading out for a bit if anyone needs me."
She smiled at him. "Yes, Captain Reed." The second his back was turned, she scowled at me.
We strolled down the street like two co-workers on a Starbucks run on Tuesday afternoon.
“First off, you should have a word with Lieutenant Balwick about his attitude,” I said.
Reed paused. “Are you telling me how to handle my subordinates?”
“I’m just telling you that you have a major asshat on your hands and you really should deal with him before he besmirches the good Protector name.”
Reed folded his arms, intrigued. “What did he do?”
“Called me a big mouth with tits.”
His teasing smile quickly faded. “He what?”
“He also refused to yield to Detective Thompson. Called us ladies.”
His expression hardened. Insulting me was bad enough, but Reed had the utmost respect for Detective Thompson. They’d been friends long before I ever arrived on the scene.
“You told Lieutenant Balwick who you were?”
“I did, not that it should matter. I wouldn’t want him talking to any woman the way he spoke to me. He had a female Protector with him. A trainee.”
“Thank you for telling me.” His back went rigid. Reed rarely lost his cool, but I could sense the anger coiled within him, ready to strike.
“So you’re not annoyed that I had a run-in with Protectors?” I asked.
“Of course not. While I do prefer puppies and rainbows in my day, I’m willing to accept that not every Protector is perfect.”
I pretended to gasp for air. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that so I can record it with my phone?” I whipped out my phone and held it near his mouth.
“You’re hilarious,” he said, gently pushing it away. “Now what’s the information you need from me.”
"The dead mage is a man called Ridley Farber. He was a PAN asset."
Reed started. “Okay. I wasn't expecting that."
"You and me both." Other than Greer, no one else in PAN knew my whereabouts. And I trusted Greer with my life.
"I was hoping we could call your brother and see what he can find out,” I said.
“I’ll get a message to him.” He shaded his eyes from the blinding sunset. “Any word on the dead human?”
“Thompson said the autopsy revealed some abnormalities in the brain, but no one can determine whether they were pre-existing or a sudden development.”
“No hallucinogens?”
“No identifiable ones, but there were a couple unknown substances in his system.”
He looked thoughtful. “Some kind of Third Eye cocktail? Why would anyone create that?”
I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Why this guy? Why the park?”
“It does seem to be the busy season for supernatural drama,” Reed said.
We reached the corner and stopped walking. Although this was the natural point to head home, I found myself lingering. “Hey, Reed?”
“Yes?”
“Would you like to have dinner with me one night this week?”
He looked momentarily stunned. “You want to talk more about a case?”
I hesitated. “No, I’d like to plan a date with you. That is, if you’re still interested.”
His gaze remained sure and steady. “I’d like that very much. Any place in particular?”
I squelched the fear rising from the pit of my stomach. “How about your house?”
He flashed a thousand watt grin and my heart leaped. “You want to have dinner with me at my house?”
“I do.” I paused. “There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you cook?”
6
Thompson and I stood at the counter in Tops and Bottoms, reviewing the file on James Pickney. We couldn’t seem to find any information about him to explain what happened. His parents were garden variety human and so were his grandparents. Thompson had sent the results with the unknown chemicals to a special PTF lab and still came up empty-handed.
“You two are always nose-deep in a file,” Farah said, breezing past us with a new mannequin. Don’t you ever just want to watch YouTube videos on your phones?”
“Who’s the new guy?” I asked.
Farah set the mannequin upright and patted his bare butt. “I call him Fabio. I felt like the two girls in the window needed a boyfriend.”
“You’re going to dress him, r
ight?” Thompson asked.
Farah snorted. “If you want to see people fully clothed, you really need to stop coming here.”
Thompson’s phone beeped and she gave it a quick glance. I noticed her jaw tense. “There's activity on Market Street."
That sounded ominous. “What kind of activity?" I suspected the answer wasn’t going to be Bingo or poker.
"The kind I am personally invested in," Thompson said.
More Ghuls.
“On Market Street?” I pushed away from the counter. “We’ve got weapons. What are we waiting for? Let's go." It would give us the best possible advantage. Going up against Ghuls with no powers and no weapons was always a bad idea. At least now we had a fighting chance—fighting being the optimum word.
"But you haven't finished your coffee," Thompson said, staring at the Wawa coffee cup she’d brought for me.
"You really need to get over your coffee fetish," I said. “Not everyone needs caffeine coursing through their veins 24/7.” I only forced myself to drink it because I knew how much it meant to her.
We left the shop and rushed over to Market Street. It was a surprising location for a Ghul sighting. They generally preferred remote or abandoned places. Center City at this hour was a bold statement. Or they were desperate. Neither was an ideal scenario.
"Any idea which store?" I asked.
She shot me an apprehensive look.
"What?"
Thompson cleared her throat. "It's a pet store.”
My stomach turned. Desperate times apparently called for desperately disgusting measures. Often times when Ghuls had trouble locating a human host, they searched for the next best thing. In this case, these Ghuls had decided on cats and dogs. Maybe even a few unlucky cockatiels.
The pet store was dark when we arrived. Oddly enough, the front door was locked. They must have gone in through a back entrance. Thompson waved me around to the side of the building into a dark alleyway. The metal door rested on the ground near the dumpster, torn completely off the hinges. She signaled for me to stand on the left side of the entrance while she took the right. She counted to three on her fingers before slipping inside. I stayed close behind.
The dogs barked incessantly and I could hear the screeching protestations of cats. The taste of vomit filled my mouth.
It was pitch dark as we maneuvered our way through boxes and shelves in the storage area to the front of the store. I saw the shadowy silhouette of one Ghul as it wrenched the door from a large dog crate. Inside was a German Shepherd, crouched low. It was snarling and snapping its sharp teeth. While the dog’s performance would be enough to scare a human, it was useless to deter a hungry Ghul. Their depravity knew no bounds. If I waited a few more seconds, it would be too late for this dog. I had to make a move.
I stepped out of the shadows. "If you're looking to adopt, might I suggest a Shar-Pei. It's just up your alley in terms of attractiveness."
The Ghul twisted around to look at me. His beady eyes squinted in the gloom. I didn't wait for him to decide his next move. I whipped out one of my daggers and sank it right between his eyes.
"Whoa, nice shot, Alyse,” I congratulated myself.
"I thought you were aiming for the nose," Thompson's voice called from a different part of the store.
“Eyes on your own paper, Thompson," I called back.
"My paper has a sword through its belly," she said. "The paper is still rustling, though."
"Then stab it again," I advised. "You can never be too careful." I watched as my Ghul ripped the dagger from his face and tossed it aside. He did not look like a happy camper.
“It’s called acupuncture,” I told him. “People pay good money for that sort of thing.”
He started toward me and the German Shepherd shot out of the crate and attacked him from behind. The dog clamped its jaws around the Ghul’s thigh.
“Down, doggy,” I yelled. As much as I appreciated the assistance, he was compromising my aim. I didn’t want to hurt any of the animals.
The German Shepherd growled as the Ghul reached down and grabbed it by the scruff of the neck. He tossed the dog across the room like a beanbag and I heard the pained yelp as it landed on the floor with a thud.
At least now I had a clear shot.
I aimed my Glock and unloaded into the Ghul’s chest. He exploded like he stepped on a land mine.
Thompson appeared beside me, covered in black gunk. “I think he’s mostly dead now.”
“Mostly dead?” I eyed her curiously. “Thompson, are you making a pop culture reference?”
She allowed herself a tiny smile. “I finally watched The Princess Bride.”
“I’m so proud of you.” Thompson made little time for movies and television. She was all work, all the time. “Any other Ghuls?” I wanted to check on the dog.
“All clear.”
I crossed the room to where the dog lay slumped against the wall. He whimpered softly.
“We need to get this one to a vet,” I said. “Do you know anyone?”
“I wish I did.” She crouched beside me and ran her hand down the dog’s back, comforting him.
“A healer it is then.” I lifted the dog into my arms and cradled him against my chest. He wasn’t light, but I had enough adrenaline pumping through me to make it seem easy. “Do me a favor and call Reed. Tell him we need Lana.”
The Office of the Protectorate was close by and she was the best healer in town. I knew she could help us.
“You go ahead,” Thompson said. “I’m going to make sure all of the other animals are okay first. Then I’ll need to contact the owner.”
“Good thinking.” I carried the dog out the back door and tried to keep him calm and reassured. This brave dog deserved a fighting chance.
Reed met me in front of the building and scooped the dog from my arms.
“Working late?” I asked.
“It’s not that late,” he said. “What happened?”
“Ghuls,” I replied.
“Here? At this hour?”
“Thompson and I had the same thought.”
I followed him inside and we took an elevator to the lower level. Although I’d been down here a couple of times, the building was still a labyrinth that required Naphil navigation.
We arrived in a room resembling a surgical suite and Reed placed the dog on a large table. He kept one hand resting on the dog’s side and spoke to him in a soothing tone.
“Take it easy, big fella,” he said. “Help is on the way.”
Lana appeared in the doorway, her long, gray hair was tied in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. “I was binge-watching an entire season of Real Housewives,” she said. “I hope this is a true emergency.”
“It is,” I said, and moved aside.
When her gaze fell upon the suffering dog, her expression darkened. She moved toward the table and gestured impatiently for Reed to get out of the way.
“You beautiful creature,” she said, smoothing the dog’s coat and whispering in his ear.
I watched as she literally worked her magic. Her hands traveled over his body, assessing the injuries.
“Can I get you anything?” Reed asked.
She shushed him. “The rib is fractured and it may have punctured the lung.” She listened closely. A human vet would need to take valuable time to do a chest X-ray. Not so with a healer.
“Can you fix him?” I asked.
She turned and gave me a modest smile. “Of course. It is what I do, is it not?”
Talk about a superpower. Although I was quick healing even in my cuffed state, I envied Lana’s ability. She could help others in a way that I never could—not even as a full-blown djinni. With my cuffs off, my abilities only served to directly benefit me. Arguably, I could serve others with those powers, but it wasn’t quite the same. Not to me.
After a few minutes, the dog barked. A healthy, happy bark that brought tears to my eyes.
“You’re my hero, Lana,” I said.
&n
bsp; “Poppycock,” Lana said, her cheeks reddening. “I help when I can, the same as the two of you. He needs rest now.”
“And a home,” I said. “He’s living in the pet store.”
Lana clucked her tongue. “A shame the way people dispose of pets like yesterday’s garbage. He is far too big and lively for constant containment.”
She was right. I couldn’t take him back there to live in a crate, but he was too big for the apartment. And I wasn’t about to call Serena. Although I knew she would take better care of him than any pet store, I couldn’t bring myself to send this dog off to an evil mastermind. It felt wrong.
“I’ll take him home with me,” Reed said.
My eyebrows shot up. “You want a dog?”
“I have a big house and a fenced yard in a nice suburban neighborhood,” he said. “Why not a dog?”
I glanced at the German Shepherd on the table. He seemed to be breathing steadily now.
“I think if you’re going to have a dog, this guy is a good choice,” I said.
Reed stroked the dog’s thick fur. “How about it, fella? You interested in a new home?”
“If you don’t really want him, I’m sure we could find him a home,” I said.
Reed stared at the dog. “No, I definitely want him. I already have a name for him.”
“What’s that?”
“Jack, the Giant Slayer.”
I could always count on Reed to improve a situation. “It’s perfect.”
7
The Night Owl was packed. Farah had insisted that I distract myself from the long list of unsolved problems with alcohol and a jukebox full of Nineties glam rock. So far we had a dead guy with unknown chemicals in his system, a dead PAN asset with no witnesses, a missing teen, and Ghuls in the market for a pet. To eat. To say that things were not going well in the colony was an understatement.
“Any update on Ridley Farber?” Mix asked. He sat sandwiched between Farah and Reed in an oversized booth. Flynn was on my side of the table, waiting for Tessa to return with another round of drinks. Lucky me.
“Not yet,” I said glumly, stirring the ice in what was left of my vodka tonic.
“Do you think your whereabouts has finally leaked out?” Mix asked. “Maybe Farber was confirming the intel.”